The Guardiana
by dtill359
Summary: Put one foot in the past and one in the present and join two of the SB/Y cast as the true history behind the Gamilon royal family is revealed. No one is safe. Enemies become friends; friends become enemies in this multi-millenial conflict. AU. "The Sands of Time Are Sinking" Book 0.
1. Prologue & Chapter 1: Great Is Diana

**Author's Foreward  
**

No one knows exactly what the next day of their life holds for them. This book, _The Guardiana_, is intended to be the first book in a series that tells the story of an alternate Star Blazers universe. This book was first inspired by this first verse of the hymn, _The Sands of Time Are Sinking__, _by Mrs. A.R. Cousin.

The sands of time are sinking,  
The dawn of Heaven breaks,  
The summer morn I've sighed for,  
The fair, sweet morn awakes:  
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,  
But Dayspring is at hand,  
And glory—glory dwelleth  
In Immanuel's land.

* * *

**Prologue**

The young Gamilon prince's footsteps echoed down the empty hall. To his relief, no one else had seen fit to wander this part of the palace. Though, truthfully, he needn't have worried about being followed. No one ever seemed to be around these days – at least, no one was ever around him, or so it seemed to the blue-skinned fifteen-year old. Only Masterson, his faithful shadow was ever anywhere to be seen. His brother Deun on the other hand, couldn't seem to get away from the attendants, the tutors, or their father and those cursedly boring meetings.

Deun was being put through extensive training in preparation for the day that he would take the throne and become Leader Deun II of Gamilon.

His father had always favored Deun over him. In the recent years things had begun to get worse. Ever since his mother, Queen Talonka's death, his father had shunned him. Sometimes it seemed as though his father actually hated him, or perhaps the Leader did not care if his younger son existed at all.

He hung his head and continued plodding along until he came to the end of the far wing of the palace where his parents' room used to be. After his mother's death, his father had refused to stay in the old chambers. In fact, he had moved all the way to the opposite side of the palace and into the guest's suites.

Even after almost five years, Leader Deun I had not gotten over the death of his beloved wife, and he had chosen to take his grief out on his younger son whose only sin had been being born with a partially white left hand, a fluke birthmark just like the one his mother had. Even covering the imperfection had not gotten him back into his father's good graces.

In reality, he probably should have been shipped off to some far-away planet – perhaps a new colony or something else suitably unassuming where the unwanted royal son could live and die in obscurity without ever revealing his heritage – and especially not his blood right to the throne if anything should ever happen to his brother... Or if… But that would never happen. Deun was not capable of something like that.

According to the tradition of the royal line of his people, the Leader and his Queen only raised up one heir. This purportedly prevented family in-fighting and united the people around the single heir. His very existence broke with that tradition. He had asked his mother once about why she and his father had kept both he and his brother instead of spiriting him away somewhere... or worse. Queen Talonka had told him that she loved both of her sons and that she would not wrong her own flesh and blood simply to follow a tradition.

Some days the second-born prince wondered what it might have been like if he had been the elder twin. If everything had been different by a matter of minutes, everything would have changed completely.

The teenager stopped abruptly as a door, forbidden to him these past several years, filled his field of vision and he stopped in front of it.

Memories swirled in his head like waves crashing over the breakers. Before her death, the Queen had not allowed her sons' education to be parceled out to private tutors. She had taught them herself, often in this very room, especially in their younger years. Many things were made easier by the fact that the brothers were the same age. There was only one lesson to prepare, and sibling rivalry kept the boys from ever getting too far behind in anything. Throughout his academic career, he had bested his elder brother, not so much to impress anyone as to prove his worth to his father…

Quietness swathed the secluded pocket of the palace in its comforting embrace as he reached out and punched the seven digit sequence he had found hidden in his father's current chambers, into the control panel inset in the wall beside the long-sealed door.

The hiss of the door opening broke the silent embrace with a force more violent than it should have been. The prince took one last look around to make sure he was alone before darting into the musty room and resealing the door behind him.

The former royal chambers looked exactly as it had five years ago. Nothing was out of place. The only difference he could see was that there was a thick layer of dust almost everywhere and the sight almost made him cough.

Why had his father not even allowed the servants to come and air out the room? What secrets lay here that his father wanted to remain buried so badly that he would cut off all memories of the only woman he had ever loved?

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read what was written on it for the hundredth time before stepping carefully, and quietly first one step then another until he finally reached an old plant, at least, he thought it was a plant, though how it could still be alive he did not know. He whispered something almost inaudible to the organism and received his answer.

A portion of the plant melted away, revealing a shallow recess within the heart of a very unplant-like machine. In the little pocket, a small device lay waiting, just where his mother's letter had promised it would be.

He picked up the device and the recess melted closed again. He crossed the grand room and settled onto the bed, stirring up a thick cloud of dust that sent him into a bout of coughing. Following his mother's instructions, he set the device down in front of him.

He almost fell off of the bed in surprise and shock when an image of his mother sprang forth from the tiny mechanism. The sight was so powerful that he reached out his hand to touch her beautiful face. He almost wept when his hand passed through her and the raw grief from five years ago nearly crushed his heart afresh.

"Desslok, my dear son, I hope you are well and that you have been able to let go of the bitterness that I have no doubt rose in your soul after my death. I have prepared this hologram for you in the event that I am not able to tell you this story in person. I pray that you never have to find it."

Hearing her voice again after so long overcame his adolescent ego and he failed to staunch the sudden flow of tears – the first he had shed in many years.

"Desslok," the prince was jerked back to reality at the sound of his name.

"I know your brother Deun is to inherit the throne; it is his right as the firstborn. But I wish to leave you an inheritance of your own – one that even your father does not fully know about."

Desslok's forehead wrinkled as he raised his eyebrows, intrigued and strangely comforted by his mother's posthumous gift.

"The inheritance I leave you is the legacy of my family – the followers of Guardiana, and how I escaped their fate. Much of what I must tell you will not be easy for you to hear, my son, and some of it you will not believe. To tell you this history, I must begin at the beginning… with a prayer that shaped the universe."

* * *

**Chapter 1: Great Is Diana of the Ephesians**

"Lord, I am Your humble servant, and I will follow You even unto death. I do not understand why Your Holy Spirit has forbidden me to go into Asia. I believe You would have Gospel to be spread throughout the world, but I trust Your wisdom and plan. I know that You want me to go to Ephesus – to give them the message of Jesus Christ. I know it will not be easy, but I also know that You will be with me wherever I go."

* * *

Priscilla opened her tent flap and looked up at the sky. The air was cool tonight and the stars shone brightly above her. Her husband Aquila had gone for a walk about an hour ago, and she was starting to wonder where he had gone. She walked past their traveling companions' tents. A few minutes later she stopped beneath a sycamore tree – much like the one Zacchaeus had climbed some years ago so that he could see Jesus above the crowd that had gathered around Him.

Not an eighth of a mile away from where she was stood Aquila looking up at the sky with a thoughtful look on his face, his arms folded across his chest. Almost as if he sensed his wife's gaze he looked at her and waved, a smile spreading over his face as he turned from his meditation and came to her.

"Husband, it is late." Priscilla rested a loving hand on Aquila's shoulder. He took her hand and laid a tender kiss on it.

"I know, my dear. I was coming back when I began to think about how God has blessed us. After we were forced from Rome, God led us to Corinth where we met Timothy and Paul and were able to be with them through everything they endured there. Now we are on this journey with them to Ephesus…" he looked back up at the stars and both of them were silent for a moment.

"Aquila, we should get back to the tent. I'd rather not have any wild goats eating our inventory." Priscilla took her husband's hand and began walking back to the tent. Aquila chuckled as he followed her.

* * *

A few days later, the four traveling companions entered the city of Ephesus. Paul preached in the local synagogue, and some believed the message he brought. The new Christians begged Paul to stay and teach them more about Jesus. He stayed as long as he could, but soon he had to leave the Ephesian believers and journey back to Jerusalem for the Passover.

Aquila and Priscilla stayed in Ephesus with the new believers and Paul set off for Jerusalem with Timothy and a new traveling companion, Silas. Paul promised that he would return to Ephesus.

A few years later, Paul set out from Antioch of Syria and traveled back to Ephesus to fulfill his promise. In the interim, Aquila and Priscilla were able to disciple many believers in Ephesus, including one young man named Apollos.

Once Paul arrived in Ephesus with Luke, Silas, and Timothy, he spent three months in the Jewish synagogue preaching Jesus Christ until the Jews would not tolerate his preaching any longer. When his access to the synagogue was denied, Paul arranged with a man named Tyranus to use his lecture hall to preach to the Ephesian believers and anyone else who would come to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Two years passed this way and Christians from Ephesus scattered themselves throughout Asia, spreading the news of Jesus as they went. In the city of Ephesus, great things were beginning to happen.

In an average Ephesian Jew's household, several men gathered together to talk.

"My brothers, the teacher Paul must have some magic to be able to cast out these evil spirits." The eldest son of the chief priest Sceva said to his six brothers. "If he can do this thing, what is stopping us from doing it? We have some experience with magic. Let us try it."

The six younger brothers looked at each other, nodding. "Alright brother," the second eldest brother said, "we will go with you."

The seven brothers set out to find someone possessed by an evil spirit. The brothers searched the city and came to a house where they found a candidate – a man tormented for years by the evil spirit within him. The man's family welcomed the Sceva brothers into their home when they told them the purpose for their search. The family watched and hoped.

The eldest Sceva evaluated the condition of the man standing before him.

"We adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preaches!" The son addressed the devil.

The possessed man looked at the brothers, his eyes crazed and rolling. To his family's horror he snarled, "Jesus, I know, and Paul I know; but who are you?!"

The eldest Sceva's eyes widened in surprise. This was not how it was supposed to happen. The magic was supposed to make the evil spirit leave.

Without warning the possessed man jumped on the eldest brother ripping at him with insane speed and ferocity. The other six sons leapt into the fight while the family ran and hid within the house. The crazed man fought all seven brothers easily, the devil igniting superhuman strength within him. The man overpowered the seven and the brothers fled.

News of the brothers' encounter spread throughout the city. Paul was not using magic; he had something far more powerful than the dark arts – he had Jesus Christ.

Soon after the Sceva brothers' misadventure, many Ephesian believers came forward and revealed that they had been involved in magical and occultic practices. A great bonfire was built; the believers gathered their spell books, talismans, and other tools of magic and threw them into the flames, watching their former lives melt away and realizing the freedom they had in God.

As a result of their new beliefs, the Ephesian Christians stopped buying the silversmiths' finely crafted images of Diana. With each new convert to Christianity, the smiths lost more customers – and more importantly, more money. The artisans' greed prodded them to stir up the people who still believed in Artemis Diana – who still spent their money at the silversmiths' market stalls. The crafters devised a plan to gather everyone into the city's amphitheater. The meeting would surely draw Paul in – he never missed an opportunity to speak about his Jesus.

On the day of the "impromptu" meeting, the amphitheater was packed. Paul, as the crafters thought, came to see if he could seize the opportunity to speak to the people, but his fellow believers stopped him. The silversmiths and their sympathizers would surely kill Paul if they knew he was there.

The whole scene was chaos. One silversmith got up in front of the crowd and began chanting, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" over and over. The crowd unified around his chant.

Outside the amphitheater, one priestess named Nuray listened to the cacophony. These Christians were becoming a real threat to the worship of her deity Artemis Diana.

"No one will take my goddess from me!" Nuray thought to herself.

She looked down at her six year old daughter Simay and an idea began to fester in her heart.

* * *

**Ch. 1 References:**

- **Picirilli, Robert E. ****_Paul the Apostle_****. Moody Press. 1986.**

- **_The Holy Bible_****:****_ The Acts of the Apostles Chapter 19_****. Zondervan.**

- **Wikipedia, Various articles**


	2. Chapter 2: This Vow I Make

**Chapter 2: This Vow I Make**

The sun was sinking in the western sky as Nuray clasped her daughter's hand tightly and walked through the deserted city back to the temple of Artemis; its third rebuilding had left the temple adorned royally in gold and silver detail work. The columns supporting the temple towered above Nuray as she quietly slipped back into the temple.

The high priestess's footsteps echoed along the seemingly endless dark hallway lined with rooms; the hall led to the interior of the temple. Simay's pattering feet followed her mother as quickly as she could manage. On the way, Nuray stopped briefly at one particular door. She stared at it for a moment, then gazed at her daughter, remembering one particular day six years ago that the worshipers had come to venerate Diana. She quickly shook the memory from her mind and continued walking. It took another full minute and a half to reach the main room of the temple.

"Simay, stay here." Nuray instructed before she walked straight up to the altar, displayed prominently on a dais at the front of the cavernous room. The priestess looked around the sacred site, searching for something in particular. There it was, on a shelf on the wall behind the altar. Nuray carefully picked up the small artifact and tucked it into a pocket in her long red robes.

Nuray's face turned ashen as the sound of a creaking door met her ears. She ran back to her precious daughter, picked the little girl up and fled back across the dark expanse of black marble floor and through a door beside the altar.

Three temple eunuchs shuffled through the same door Nuray and Simay had first come through. One man chanced to look toward the door on the opposite side of the room and caught a glimpse of red fabric disappearing through the dark doorway. He pointed at the flash of scarlet and let out a yell. Just then another of the three men noticed the absence of one of the statues on the far wall and let out an exclamation of his own.

Two of the men went in hot pursuit of whoever had stolen one of their precious sacred statues. The third ran all out to the amphitheater to get the rest of Diana's cadre.

Nuray heard the shouts and pounding footsteps closing in behind her.

"A place to hide!" the thought raced through her as the beating of her heart pounded in her ears. "Great Artemis Diana, give me a place to hide!"

Nuray shot out through the back door of the great temple into the merciful twilight of the day. The adrenaline coursing through her blood spurred her on faster than she had ever run in her life. If she were caught, the punishment would be her and Simay's lives. The only thing she loved as much as her goddess was her dear little moon beam Simay. She would not lose her little girl!

The sycamore grove planted behind the temple gave her some protection from the eyes of her two pursuers, but not enough cover to completely hide her from their searching eyes. She took no heed to the grass and branches that blocked her way and forged on through the underbrush into the thickening night.

She ran until her lungs were about to burst from the exertion. A second later Nuray came face-to-face with a wall of rock. The small malformed mountain had come out of nowhere. Hoping for refuge, Nuray felt along the wall with her battered, shoeless foot. Terror surged through her at the sound of many running feet and voices coming towards her; the fear gave her strength to go on.

She felt along the wall for half a mile, the sounds of her pursuers inching ever closer. The night was black now – not even the moon shone tonight. Only the light of the mob's torches lit the way.

Nuray's foot hit an opening the in the rock and she lurched to the left, banging her head against the hard rock. She set Simay down; her arms left like limp bread as she shoved the girl through the small hole and into a dark passageway.

Simay did not know why her mother was so frightened, or why everyone was following them, but she obeyed her mother and crawled through the darkness until she met another wall. A small carved out cavern in the rock allowed her to turn around and stretch out on her side.

Nuray followed her daughter into the black void. A spider crawled across her face, but she refused to cry out. Dirt, tears and blood coated the side of her face where she had connected with the rock. The priestess and her daughter were deathly silent as they waited for the mob to either pass by their small refuge or discover and kill them.

Another small fear sprang into Nuray's mind and she frantically felt inside her robe. She silently let out her breath in relief when she felt the statue she had taken from the temple.

A hundred dirty, sandaled feet flew past the opening of the hollow. Loud voices shouted obscenities and curses on the thief they were chasing; little did they know that it was their own high priestess whom they pursued.

When the mad mob had been gone for over half an hour Nuray risked sliding the statue from her robe to examine it. She had to settle for checking it with her fingers since she had no light to see it. The small ears and muzzle were still perfect; the four legs and tiny tail were unscathed. Nuray held the statue out in front of her and began praying to her goddess.

"Oh great Diana, I thank you for saving me and my little Simay. I ask that you preserve my bloodline; give me descendants to carry on my mission – to perpetuate your worship and your ways. This vow I make: if you will do this thing for me, one chosen daughter, marked by red or auburn hair, from every generation will serve you as high priestess. She will garner worshipers to you, my goddess. She will be yours." The little statue began to heat up in her hands. She had to drop it or else sear the flesh on her palms.

"I will do as you ask." The statue's eyes glowed red as a strange deep female voice emanated from it.

Simay screamed in fright at the disembodied voice, but her mother paid no heed to her fear. In the light of the glowing eyes, the little girl finally saw what her mother had taken from the temple of Diana. Her head was still spinning from the chase, but Simay could make out the outline of a bulbous, four-legged, furry creature.

Nuray looked into the glowing eyes and vowed in her heart to remain true to her goddess.

Off in the distance, Simay heard the screams of men intermingled with the unmistakable roar of an enraged she-bear.


	3. Chapter 3: My Own Flesh and Blood

**Chapter 3: My Own Flesh and Blood**

Nuray didn't remember many of the events of the next few days after she and her daughter left the hollow and found a suitable hiding place deep within the main city. But one night, by candlelight Nuray sat up late thinking about her life and what it had become. She watched her little girl as she slept and thought once again about the harrowing escape the two of them had had only a week ago.

If only she could find some way to provide for her Simay better than the scraps she was bringing home now; but she knew she would never be able to find real employment without giving herself away. The people knew Nuray from seeing her preside over the worship of Diana every sixth day of the week, but few people had ever seen Simay. The priestess had considered revealing her daughter, but every time she thought about it, a sense of dread came over her.

Many of her fellow priestesses had suspected her pregnancy, but Nuray had taken steps to allay those suspicions. Nuray wore voluminous robes during every public appearance; she carefully hid every bout of morning sickness, every ache of her tired back and swelling ankles. She could not bear to do away with the only thing in the world that she felt she could love besides Diana.

Only one other person had been witness to the birth of Simay – an old midwife – dead now three years – who Nuray had contacted out of desperation a few hours before Simay had been born. She had thanked Diana that all had gone well with the delivery, and that Simay had been a beautiful, quiet baby.

In carrying her daughter full term – in conceiving her at all – Nuray had committed a vile sin in the eyes of her fellow priestesses. Every priestess, following the example of their goddess, must never bear children or do anything that might facilitate it. If the temple ever discovered that she had had any dealings with any of the worshipers, Nuray would lose her position – she would be cast out of the city, or even killed, depending on the people's wishes.

No one must ever know about Simay's true origins… Ever.

* * *

Three years after Nuray and her daughter went into hiding, Simay developed a serious illness; every breath was excruciating, every movement torment. She had a high fever that would not break, no matter what Nuray did. Even her prayers to her goddess did not seem to help the girl.

Nuray cried out in frustration to Diana. "You promised me! You promised to preserve my bloodline!"

There was no answer.

In desperation, Nuray left their hovel to find help, promising her little moon beam that she would return soon.

Nuray clasped a veil about her face in the hope that no one would recognize the missing former high priestess of Artemis Diana behind the thick cloth.

She cursed under her breath at every unanswered healer and magician's door she knocked on. No one seemed to be home – an oddity in the middle of the day.

Hours after she left Simay, she knocked on one final door – the most well known spell-caster in the city. Nuray knocked furiously over and over, not even waiting for a response between knocks, but to no avail. No one – not even a household servant heard her desperation.

Nuray ran back down the street, tears streaming down her face as she went. After several city blocks, the priestess stopped in an alley and broke down completely, her face in her hands. She did not even bother to pull her veil up.

As she wept, the harsh afternoon light glinted off of her tears and a dry wind scratched at her exposed face.

A hand gently squeezed Nuray's shoulder. Startled, Nuray looked up at the unfamiliar face of a woman. The priestess was so shocked that she forgot to cover her face. When she realized what she had done she looked away in fright.

"Don't be afraid." The woman said kindly as she knelt beside Nuray. "What's wrong? Maybe my husband and I can help."

"I don't think so…" Nuray mumbled. "I don't even know who you are."

"We came to Ephesus five years ago. We make and sell our tents in the market, and we've just returned to our home for the day. We don't have much, but what we have is yours if it will help you."

Nuray bit her lip in indecision. There was a chance this woman would recognize her since Nuray had only been absent from the temple for half the time this woman and her husband had been living in the city. If this woman remembered her, it would not only endanger her life, but her little Simay would never get the help she needed. The thought flashed through her mind that this strange woman was Simay's only real chance, and she had to take it to try to save her precious daughter

Nuray took a chance and looked into the woman's eyes. To her surprise, she did not sense any deception in this craftswoman. "Okay, tent-maker. I accept your help."

The woman smiled, and helped Nuray get back to her feet. "What is it you need, my friend?"

Nuray's heart clenched when she heard the word "friend."

"It's my little girl. She – She's very sick… I've been looking for a doctor, a spell-caster, anyone who could help me… but I can't find one person…" Tears spilled down her cheeks again.

"It's okay. I'll go get my husband and we'll come with you to your home."

Nuray nodded.

The woman ran across the street to a small house where a donkey was yoked to a wagon. A few minutes later the woman came out with her husband and invited Nuray to get into the wagon. The priestess hid her face in her veil as she sat in the front of the wagon with the woman's husband to give him directions to her home.

Before the wagon had completely stopped in front of the old house, Nuray jumped out of the wagon and hurried inside. The tent-makers came into the house close behind her.

Simay lay on the bed shivering, her body burning up with deadly fever.

When the couple saw the little girl, they came instantly over to her bedside.

"I've never seen anything like this before." The woman whispered to her husband.

"It doesn't matter to God: He can heal anything." He replied quietly.

"I know." The woman said to her husband before looking over at Nuray. "We would like to pray over her, if you'll allow it."

Not fully understanding what the woman meant, Nuray replied, "I've already tried that… But I'm willing to try almost anything."

Without any further word, the woman and her husband knelt, one on each side of the little girl's sickbed, and bowed their heads.

Nuray's eyes widened at the first word the man said.

"Father," he began, "we know that every child is precious in Your sight, and this woman's child needs healing right now. If it be Your will Lord, heal this little girl, and give her a chance to know Your love in her life. I pray this in the name of Your dear Son, our risen Saviour Jesus Christ, Amen."

"Y-you're Christians!" Nuray said in horror. Her goddess would surely punish her for this treachery.

"Yes, we are. I am Aquila, and this," he stood and gestured toward his wife, "is Priscilla. We came to Ephesus with Paul the first time he came through here on his way back to Jerusalem."

"You didn't tell m – "

"Mama…?" the small voice of her little girl quelled Nuray's rage. "Can I have some water?"

Nuray put a hand to her daughter's forehead and discovered that the fever was completely gone. Only a sheen of sweat remained as proof that it had ever been there in the first place.

"Oh Simay, my little moon beam! Of course you can." The woman wrapped her daughter in her arms and buried her face in the girl's straight auburn hair while crying tears of relief.

When she had let go of her daughter again and brought a cup of water to the child, she turned to Aquila and Priscilla.

"Why did you help me?"

"Because you needed it." Priscilla replied.

"But, I'm not a Christian like you. I follow Artemis Diana."

"It doesn't matter whether you're a Christian or not. Our God is a God of mercy." Aquila paused. "Let me ask you one thing."

Nuray nodded reluctantly.

"Did Diana heal your daughter?"

The question hit Nuray hard. Diana had given her word that she would protect Nuray and her descendants, but where was Diana when her little girl was at death's door?

"I will not dishonor the goddess, not even for my own flesh and blood," the priestess thought. She dared not admit Diana's failure to two Christians, and she glared at them silently.

"Jesus Christ came to this earth to give us life –"

"I don't want to hear it, tent-maker!" Nuray clapped her hands over her ears in defiance. "Get out of my house! Get out now!" Nuray pointed an insidious finger toward the half-open front door.

"We will go," the man called Aquila said, "but may we at least know your name?"

"My name is no concern of yours, Christian." The woman spat out the label as if it were poison. "Now go!"

Aquila and Priscilla walked quietly out of the humble house and got back into their wagon to start the quiet trip home.


	4. Chapter 4: But He Was Wounded

**Chapter 4: But He Was Wounded**

The years continued to pass and Simay grew from little girl into young woman. Because of her mother's former prominence in Ephesian society, Nuray was never able to seek regular employment. As a result, Simay was forced to find work by the time she was ten years old. For five years now she had been the breadwinner of the house. Her mother tried to scrape up some extra coins here and there: mending clothes, doing laundry for strangers, cleaning the neighbor's house when they were away on business. But it was never enough to live off of.

Simay's arms moved back and forth rhythmically as she swept the sand, dirt, and plant debris out of her employer's house and into the bright, sunlit street.

Why did her mother have to do this to her? What was so important about that little bear statue anyway? She remembered the night in the hollow nine years ago, but some of the memories were foggy. Had she really heard a voice come from that piece of silver-coated metal? The question was always nagging at the back of her heart. Her mother believed whole-heartedly in Artemis Diana, even though she had broken one of the most important rules for priestesses of the goddess.

Her mother had told and retold Simay about the promise that Diana had made to her – to them – all those years ago, and her mother had deceived herself into believing that the goddess had kept her promise. Simay was of a different persuasion. She remembered that day six years ago when the two Christians had prayed over her. When the man prayed Simay had felt a peace settle over her. If she had the chance to find those tent-makers, she would take it.

"Simay?" the voice of the old seamstress with whom Simay had found work two years ago thrust her mind out of her musings.

"Yes, Mistress?" the girl poked her head out of the house. The seamstress was just returning from the market with two sacks of produce and a cut of meat.

"Come help me with the food, dear."

Simay set the broom put against the far wall and quickly went to help the older woman. Her thoughts would have to wait for another moment of solitude.

* * *

When the work day was done, the old seamstress sent Simay home with her day's pay and some of the leftover midday meal that Simay had helped prepare.

She usually took the most direct route home, but this evening Simay decided to take a different way back. She cut through an alley that connected the street she was on to another street a few blocks over.

Simay wove her way through unfamiliar streets, going in the general direction of her home. She rounded a corner and came face to face with a woman carrying a pail of water – presumably to water the thirsty-looking donkey standing in front of the house. A sign hung from two wooden pegs that had been hammered into the mortar between the bricks of the front wall of the dwelling. The sign read, "Quality Tents."

Could it be? Simay looked at the woman again through the twilight. As her eyes adjusted to the dimming light, a vaguely familiar face came into view.

"Hello." The woman smiled.

"Hello…" Simay said hesitantly, then decided to venture a safe question "Can you tell me how to get to Cypress Street?"

"Well, I've only been there one time and it was several years ago, but I think I remember the way."

Simay listened as the woman gave her directions, then decided to test her luck.

"Could – Could I ask your name?" Simay stammered.

"Of course you may. I am Priscilla."

Simay held back a gasp. The woman who had come to her house those years ago had been named "Priscilla."

The girl forced herself to continue probing, "And that time you went to Cypress Street; it wasn't by any chance six years ago…. Was it?" Simay gazed intensely at Priscilla.

Priscilla thought for a moment, tapping first one, then two, three, four, five, and finally six fingers.

"Yes, I think that's about right. It was a little over six years ago. Any particular reason you ask?"

Simay opened her mouth to answer, then paused suddenly. A chill ran up her spine. Now that she had the chance to talk with this Christian, she was not entirely sure she really wanted to do this. What if her mother found out what she was doing? She would surely be punished.

Simay decided that she didn't care what the consequences would be. She shook off her fear and answered Priscilla, "I am Simay. The girl you healed six years ago."

"Hello, Simay." Priscilla's face brightened. "My husband and I have been praying these six years that we would have another chance to talk with you. Please, come inside. I will water the donkey and be right in."

"Alright. But I can only stay a few minutes. My mother will worry."

Priscilla nodded and sent the girl inside.

Simay sat down in a wooden chair by the table. The house was not ornate, but it felt comfortable and homey.

Priscilla came in a minute later and called to her husband who was working in a back room finishing up the stitching on a new tent. He came quickly when Priscilla announced that Simay was waiting to talk with them.

The man and his wife both took seats around the table.

"What is it you wanted to talk to us about, Simay?" Priscilla began.

Simay pursed her lips, contemplating what she should and shouldn't say.

"Why did you heal me?"

"Well Simay, we are not the ones who healed you." Aquila corrected kindly. "Our God healed you. Only He is the Great Physician."

"If God healed me, then who was the man who touched me after you prayed?" Simay looked at Aquila in confusion.

The truth dawned on Aquila and his wife at the same moment.

"Simay, the Man you saw was Jesus." He said.

"But He is dead." Simay protested. "I hear the Jewish men come from the Synagogue every seventh day and sometimes they talk about the man called Jesus."

"He did die, yes" Aquila allowed, "But He did not stay dead. Three days after he was buried, He rose from the tomb He had been laid in."

Simay's face twisted in confusion. "But how can that be? No man could… come back from the… dead…" The fog slowly cleared from her mind and she came to the only logical conclusion there was. "Jesus is God, isn't He?"

"Yes Simay, He is God's Son." Priscilla answered.

Simay's face instantly fell again. "So… there are two Gods?"

Priscilla realized her mistake and explained. "No Simay. There is only one God, but when His Son Jesus came to walk among us, He revealed to us that He and God His Father are one person. I do not understand it fully myself. No one but God can understand His nature. If we understood everything about God, we would have no need for Him."

Simay did not understand completely, but she accepted Priscilla's explanation. "So Jesus came to tell people about Himself?"

"That is one reason, yes." Aquila replied. "Jesus came to save everyone who would place their faith in Him as Messiah. In the Tanakh, the Hebrew Scriptures, there is a section called the Nevi'im which contains many God-given writings of the prophets. One section of Isaiah's book in particular tells us of Messiah and what He would endure to placate the wrath of His Father toward the sins of the entire world."

"Sin? You use the word the same way we who follow Diana use it?" Simay asked.

"Sin is anything we do that God is not pleased with." Priscilla clarified, and Simay nodded in understanding.

Aquila continued. "Messiah came to be the sacrifice that would atone for all of mankind's sin. Sin began when the very first man and woman disobeyed God's command. Because of that one sin every one ever born has had to suffer under the consequences of that very first act of disobedience. Sin is the reason that we have death and pain, and sadness. Messiah came to offer us eternal life – to replace the death that we are doomed to taste as mortal men. If we accept the life He offers us, Messiah covers our sin with the blood He shed when He died a criminal's death on a cross on a hill outside Jerusalem called Golgotha. When Messiah rose from His tomb He sealed His victory over death by proving that death was not able to hold on to Him.

"God has always demanded a sacrifice of blood to cover sin. The Jewish temple still offers sheep, goats, bulls, and other animals on the altar in the temple. The blood of animals does not appease God. He instituted it as a means of making known His plans to one day send a Sacrifice that would be sufficient to pay for the sins of the entire world.

"Many Jews do not accept Jesus Christ as Messiah even though He fulfilled the prophecies in the Tanakh concerning Messiah. They look for a King – a conqueror – Who will rid them of their Roman oppressors. They do not see that Messiah will one day come again to reign as King, but that He first had to come as a servant – a sacrifice."

Simay sat in stunned silence. If what Aquila said about this Jesus was true and He was the Messiah who the Jews unknowingly spoke of…

In the recesses of Simay's mind a dark presence began to weave its way through her thoughts, twisting Aquila's words just enough to draw Simay's mind in a completely different direction.

If accepting the Jewish Messiah could grant her eternal life… She could only imagine the power she could garner as an immortal being. She could fulfill her mother's dreams.

The darkness recoiled as if it had been burned and Simay's mind snapped back to the conversation and the words Aquila was saying.

"'But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? For he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken. And he made his grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in his hand. He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.' These are the words of God spoken through His servant Isaiah the prophet.

"If we accept Jesus as our Saviour, our bodies will still die, but our spirits will be taken to live with God for eternity."

Aquila and Priscilla fell silent for a moment to let Simay digest everything that had just been said.

Simay looked down at the floor thoughtfully as she played with her fingers nervously. Finally she looked up at Aquila and Priscilla.

"I'll have to think more about this Messiah." The girl said.

Aquila and Priscilla nodded.

"We understand." Priscilla said, "It is difficult to hear something that contradicts everything you've ever known, but please do think about it, Simay. And you are welcome in our home whenever you wish to come."

"Thank you both." Simay said, and then her eyes chanced to glance out the front window. It was fairly dark now. She had stayed too long; her mother would come looking for her if she did not get home very soon. "I have to go."

Simay picked up the food she had set on the table and abruptly left the house. She ran down the street, following the directions that Priscilla had given her a little while before, hoping against hope that her mother was occupied with something other than watching the time.

* * *

**Chapter 4 was inspired by the following two songs:**

**- Holding forth the Word of Life" by Scott Ashmore and Mac Lynch, found on the WILDS CD ****_Rejoice!_**

**- "He Was Wounded" by Nancy Hamilton and Faye Lopez, found on the WILDS CD _Once to Every Man and Nation_**


	5. Chapter 5: To Hide Our Shame

**Chapter 5: To Hide Our Shame**

Halfway home Simay nearly ran over her mother.

"Where have you been?!" Nuray chastised.

"I – I got lost." The excuse was partially true.

"Do not lie to me, child!" her mother shrieked.

Simay shrank away from Nuray; she had never blown up at her like this before. The girl quivered in fright.

"I just stopped to talk for a few minutes…" Simay mumbled.

"Who did you talk to?!" Nuray demanded.

Simay's scared eyes darted around the street, looking for some place to run. Why was her mother so angry unless she knew exactly where Simay had been? The implications of that thought horrified her.

"J-just two people I met on the way home, mother." Simay tried to placate Nuray by giving her more pieces of the truth.

"You've been talking to those Christians! By Diana, I can smell it on you!" Nuray thrust an accusing finger in her daughter's face.

Simay took another look at her mother's eyes. They were not the way that she remembered them, even from this morning. Her eyes were lit with a fire Simay had only seen a few times and never wanted to see again. This was the fire she always had after a day of speaking with the spirit of Diana. Her mother had discovered this spirit one day several years ago during meditation and ever since that day, Nuray had sought out the spirit every time she went to meditate. Nuray was not always successful in contacting this spirit, but when she was she became very strange. She knew things she couldn't have known unless someone – or something – else had told her.

Simay made a split-second decision: she turned and ran.

Time seemed to slow as Simay's feet carried her back up the street she had just come down. Nuray's footsteps sounded hollow in the girl's ears.

The whole scene seemed surreal. The moon was not yet fully risen, but its light shone brightly on the streets of Ephesus.

Simay's mind raced faster than her tired feet, and fear of what her mother might do in her state of mind made her press on.

Back through the dim alleys and backstreets, Simay ran. To her great dismay her mother was not slowing down. In fact, as she ran she screamed at her daughter through her ever-present veil.

The icy terror that Simay had felt crawl through her at the tent-makers' house returned and the presence she had sensed earlier returned with it giving her speed, but despite all of this, her mother began to gain ground.

Simay tripped on something in the dark street. She stumbled, but stayed upright.

"You have betrayed me, girl!" Nuray growled unnaturally.

Simay's heart began beating much too fast as the voice coming from her mother's lips wrapped icy tendrils around her heart. Simay had heard a voice like it only one time in her life.

More fears began to pile up in Simay's mind; more questions and doubts, when gradually one thought in particular began to surface. Once it had fully formed Simay changed direction and began heading toward the outskirts of the city proper. She did not know if her mother would follow her; as every bitter memory of her lonely childhood flashed through her mind she adjusted her pace just enough to make sure that her mother would neither catch her nor lose her before they reached their destination.

Simay had to concentrate extremely hard not to run into or over anything in the seemingly stifling darkness. Even now, with only the light of the moon and stars, her mother seemed to be able to see her without difficulty, and she was beginning to gain on Simay again. The girl had to run much faster than she should have in the darkness in order to stay far enough ahead of Nuray. Simay focused on the street ahead of her, hoping that she would reach her destination before it was too late.

The number of houses she passed began to dwindle. Just when she thought she could not keep up her blazing pace any longer, Simay spotted the glow of many torches. Her mother was less than ten feet behind her now.

Simay's feet dug into the ground, propelling her the last hundred yards to the steps leading into the temple of Artemis Diana.

Nuray's mind, blinded by the spirit that possessed her, did not register where her daughter had led her and she flew up the stairs after the wretched girl, her footsteps echoing loudly down the well-lit hall.

Simay sprinted the distance from the front opening to the door leading to the main room. The last time she had been in this temple, her mother had spirited her away. Now, it was her mother from whom she sought refuge.

Simay flung open the great wooden door and burst into the room – right in the middle of a ritual.

"Who dares disturb our worship?!" the new high priestess demanded.

Just then Nuray also barreled through the door, almost knocking Simay over.

"Please, high priestess –" Simay gasped, "this woman is trying to kill me!" she pointed at her mother.

Nuray's mind began to uncloud and she realized where she was. She froze in horror as reality dawned on her.

"And who is this woman, child?" the priestess asked.

"She – she…" Simay stopped. If she did this – if she revealed the truth…

"She has caused you nothing but pain." A voice whispered in Simay's heart. "Did she ask you if she could take away your childhood? Did she think about you before making that promise all those years ago? Did she think of you all those times she flew into a rage for no reason and beat you?"

"No… she didn't…" Simay answered within her heart.

"I'm waiting, child." The high priestess interjected.

Simay looked into the high priestess's face. "She is Nuray." Simay heard some quiet gasps of disbelief from the other woman in the room as they recognized who she was, but this reaction was nothing compared to the response Simay got after she spoke the next few words.

"She is… my mother."

Cries of outrage drowned out Nuray's pleas for mercy. In the eyes of everyone present, Nuray had just become the lowest of all beings – a vow-breaker.

Nuray tried to run back through the door, but two of the temple eunuchs seized her and another bound her hands tightly behind her back.

The high priestess beckoned the men to bring Nuray up to the altar. The woman struggled against her captors, but to no avail. The strength of the spirit of Diana was completely gone and the men were too strong to reckon with.

"Former High Priestess Nuray." The woman's eyes pierced Nuray's soul and made her shiver. "I am High Priestess Aayla. You have sinned against your goddess, and you must now pay the price. Tomorrow morning, an hour before sunrise, you will be executed for your betrayal." Aayla extended a finger towards a dark doorway off to her left. "Take her away."

"No! Simay! Simay!" Nuray screamed with tears running down her face as she was dragged out of the room and into the dark recesses of the temple's underbelly to await her death.

When the echoes of Nuray's cries had died, Aayla turned her attention to Simay.

"Well, child, tell me. How old are you?"

"I – I am fifteen, High Priestess."

Aayla assessed Simay and nodded approval. "Since your mother has no sense of loyalty, I doubt that you have much of a home to return to. Where is your father?"

"I never knew my father, High Priestess." Simay studied the swirling striations in the marble floor. They seemed to dance in the torchlight. "My mother never spoke of him…"

"Of course not." Aayla remarked snidely.

Simay drew in a sharp breath when she felt the high priestess's hand come to rest on her shoulder.

"Do you wish to stay here with us, Simay? Diana is always willing to accept a new priestess."

Simay kept her head down, "I thank you, High Priestess, but I am not worthy to accept your offer. I am the progeny of deceit and betrayal."

"True. But no one has to know that." Aayla whispered to Simay.

"Yes, High Priestess, but I would always know." She whispered back.

"Very well, child. You may go." Aayla dismissed Simay with a wave of her finely manicured hand.

Simay slowly traced her steps back through the room, along the hallway and out the main entrance of the temple.

Once Aayla was sure Simay was gone she turned to a man who had been waiting silently in the shadows, just outside the reach of the light cast by the torches.

"Follow her." she ordered, her voice low. "Make sure she does not leave Ephesus. If she tries, kill her."

"Yes, High Priestess." The black-clad stranger bowed and disappeared so quickly that only a few of the temple attendants ever saw him.

* * *

Simay dragged her feet through the pitch black streets, lit by an occasional torch and occupied by several thieves, transients, and other city riff-raff that only dared show their faces at night. She carefully avoided everyone and everything – including bushes and trees, just in case someone was hiding behind them, ready to spring on whoever might chance to walk by.

The way was lonely and Simay did not allow herself to think about what she had just done. She couldn't think about it. If she did, she might regret her decision, and regret was not a luxury she could afford right now. She had to get out of this city. There were too many memories here – too many heartaches. She determined to catch the next group of traders who came through town and go with them. She did not care so much where they went, only that they went far away from here.

On the way home, Simay shuffled past the house of the tent-makers. The windows were dark. The thought briefly skirted through her mind that she could talk to Priscilla and her husband: that they would listen to her – they had listened before, even offered hope. But then the thought was squelched by darker musings. She was now a murderer. No one would want to associate with her knowingly… not even the tent-makers.

Simay forced her feet to trudge onward.

The girl eventually made it to the front door of the hovel she used to call "home." Once inside she lit a small candle and looked around the room. Nothing was out of place or missing. Even the small silver bear was still tucked away in the far corner, glinting in the candlelight.

Simay walked over to the little statue and studied it, shaking her head in bewilderment.

"Why do you shake your head at me?"

Simay screamed and jumped back from the bear; at that same instant the small candle flame was snuffed out, leaving only the bear's glowing eyes to light the room.

"I – I – " Simay stammered.

"If you hadn't done it, she would have killed you."

"H – How do you know about that?" Simay whispered.

"I am the Spirit of Diana. I know many things, Simay." The voice growled harshly. In a slightly gentler tone, the voice continued, "I never really wanted her to begin with, you know."

Simay's eyes widened, "What do you mean, spirit?"

"First of all, you may call me 'Diana,' not 'spirit.' Secondly, you were the one I always wanted to serve me, not that weakling, Nuray. She couldn't even control her temper, much less keep a promise. She already broke one vow. I simply made it impossible for her to break another one. It was I who brought you to the temple tonight, Simay."

"Yes, I know… Diana. I heard your voice in my mind."

"And you wisely followed what I told you.

Simay thought for a moment, "But Diana, aren't you the one who made my mother behave the way she did tonight?"

"Nonsense, Simay." The spirit lied sweetly. "I would never have done such a thing."

Simay and the spirit were silent for a few seconds,

"Why are speaking to me now, Diana. Why not years ago?"

"You were not ready to give up everything to follow me, Simay."

At this, Simay was taken aback, "I do not understand."

"My dear, Simay," Diana cooed, "you already know you cannot stay here in Ephesus."

Simay nodded.

"You will journey to the Arabian desert with a band of nomads that will pass through here in two days. Take with you only what you need – not that there is much else to take – and bring this statue with you as well. You will need it in the years to come, and you will pass it on to your daughter, and she to her daughter, and so on throughout the generations, that you might fulfill your mother's promise to me."

"I understand, Diana."

"Good. Now get some sleep, Simay. You will need the next two weeks to prepare for your journey."

Simay nodded as the bear's eyes faded to their normal state.

In a daze, Simay did not bother to light the candle again. She made sure the front door was secured as best as it could be, then she went into the inner room of the house and slept.


	6. Chapter 6: Die Now and Live Forever

**Chapter 6: Die Now and Live Forever**

He heard a scream break through the silence of the night and wondered if perhaps he had not been the first one to get to her. Maybe there was someone else who wanted the girl dead or maybe she was just overly jumpy. Either way, she wasn't going anyplace tonight and one way or the other, he would find out what had become of her in the morning. For now, he would hunker down in a conveniently empty house across the street and wait.

* * *

Simay slept fitfully that night; dreams of her mother, the glowing-eyed bear, the Christians and every event of the past twenty-four hours swept through her mind like a small whirlwind and coalesced into a cacophony of spiritual distress. The screams of her mother haunted her.

In her dreams later that night, Simay found herself alone in the desert with no one to show her how to leave the endless sea of sand; the torturous heat beat down on her head without mercy and there was no water to be seen. After hours of trudging through the scratchy sand dunes, she could not walk any farther. Her lips were chapped and bleeding and her mind was so foggy she almost forgot where she was. Just when she thought she would die of exhaustion and dehydration something green slipped into the corner of her vision. A single palm tree – no, a group of them sharpened into focus.

With every agonizing step, Simay's hope rose. Soon she found herself staring down into a pool of refreshing, cool water. She immediately fell to her knees and drank until she could drink no more.

She walked shakily over to one of the clusters of trees and lay down in the shade to rest.

"Simay."

She jumped at the voice.

"Simay." The voice said again.

She looked all around her puddle of shade. There he was, standing just beside the indentation she had left in the sand while she was inhaling water. He had a gentle face, and when she looked into his eyes she saw… truth. There was nothing false in him – no deception of any kind.

"Simay, come with me." He held out a hand.

Simay smiled at the man and began to get up when she heard a low growl coming from behind her. The smile on her face vanished.

"No." the gravel-coated word gripped Simay and she did not dare turn around. She knew in her heart from whose mouth the word had come and she also knew that there would be consequences if she disobeyed.

Simay clenched her eyes shut, folded her knees up to her chin and hid her face from the man. Moments later, she woke up sobbing, never seeing the scar that marred the pleading, still-proffered hand.

* * *

In the blackness of the lower level of the Temple of Artemis Diana, Nuray awaited the darkness just before the dawn… and the hour of her death.

Her life could not be worse. Her own daughter – her little girl had revealed her secret to the temple and as a result, she was to die in a few hours. She had no chance of getting out of this dungeon, and her vow to Diana… Nuray did not want to think about the vow that she had made so hastily. She could not turn her heart away from the despair welling up inside her.

What would happen to her? What came after death? Nuray had never thought about it before – she had never really had a reason to before now and the thought terrified her. Diana, with all her promises had never really filled the emptiness in her heart. For so many years, even before she had come to the Temple of Diana, Nuray had been searching for something that might satisfy her need for fulfillment. She thought that following Diana would give her that fulfillment, and for a while she thought the goddess had done just that – even up until Simay's betrayal Nuray had truly thought that Diana might make her happy, but now that she stopped and thought – really thought about her life, she realized that the hole burning within her heart had only grown.

Nuray began to weep as she thought about her plight, and the horror of the events of this awful night hit her full-force. She was looking death in the face; it shook her to the core of her being and she began to shake.

"Diana!" Nuray pleaded, not knowing what else to do, "Diana, deliver me!"

No answer came, not even the ever-familiar whisper in her mind.

A fresh wave of despair crashed over her soul and she cried out one more time, to the last one in heaven or on earth that she expected to help her.

"Jesus, help me!" She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, partially to keep from letting out her shock at her own words, and partially to keep herself from saying anything else.

Unbearable silence made the inside of her tiny cell seem to close in on her.

"Do you really mean that?" a faint voice floated through the bars and reached her ears.

"W-who's there?" Nuray whispered in fear.

"I am İskender. May I ask your name?"

The question rang in Nuray's mind as she remembered the day the Christian named Aquila had asked her the same question. She hesitated to answer İskender, but she forced herself to open her mouth and respond.

"I… I am Nuray." She waited for İskender's reaction, but none came so she felt obligated to explain. "I was High Priestess to Diana, but… I had a child, a daughter fifteen years ago. My own child betrayed me to the Temple this very night…" Nuray began to weep again.

"And now they want to kill you." İskender supplied.

"Before dawn." She sobbed.

"Nuray," he said kindly, "you never answered my question."

Nuray stopped crying for a moment and looked up at the ceiling of her cell, since she could not see İskender. "Which question?"

"Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want Jesus' help?"

Nuray let her chin fall to her chest and buried her face in her hands. She didn't know what to do. Confusion swirled in her mind as doubt began to well up. Diana was her goddess; Nuray had made a vow to her – a foolish vow, but still a vow. But Diana had let her be imprisoned and sentenced to death by the servants of the Temple. Diana had saved her life, and she had taken it away at the same time with no promise of hope. If what the Christians said about this Jesus was true…

Nuray bit her lip, took a deep breath, and answered İskender. "Yes. I meant what I said… But, who are you? Why are you here?"

In his own small dark cell, İskender smiled and began to tell the woman his story.

"I too, was once a servant of Diana. Years ago, I sneaked into Tyranus' lecture hall to listen to the teacher Paul. I came many times – always carefully disguised of course. I told myself I was coming to keep an eye on the man – make sure he didn't cause any trouble. Truthfully I didn't really care what he did. For a Jewish religious leader, he was no orator, but it was not skillful speaking I came to hear; it was his message that left me intrigued. Paul taught about a God, called Jehovah, who sent His own Son to take our punishment for the wrongs we have all done throughout our lives. This Substitute, Jesus Messiah let mortal men shed His blood so that He might cover our sin eternally. Jesus offered everyone a gift – He would cover their sin with His blood and give them eternal life if a person would accept Jesus as Saviour.

"Of course I thought this whole thing rather odd. Nothing I had ever heard before was anything like what Paul was saying about Jesus, so I kept coming back. I even stopped Paul after the teaching time was over one day and asked him some questions about what he was saying. He patiently answered every one and invited me to eat with him and two of his companions, a man – I think his name was Aqu-something – and his wife."

Nuray's eyes flew wide open is realization.

"Aquila…" she supplied. "His name was Aquila."

"Yes! That was it. Wait… have you met him before?"

"He and his wife came to my house several years ago and healed my daughter." Nuray shook her head is disbelief as İskender continued.

"Well, I told Paul that I could not come with him because I had to get back to work. Of course I never mentioned that the work I was doing was in the Temple of Artemis. It was not too long after I refused Paul's invitation that he had to leave Ephesus to go back to Jerusalem – for the Passover he said.

"I spent the years between Paul's visits thinking about all the things that I had heard him teach about Jesus. How this Man wanted His followers to love their enemies, to pay their taxes, to be fair to their customers. At first I thought he was being idealistic, but as time went on and I was able to observe some of my own friends who believed Paul's message I realized that this Jesus had the power to change people's lives. He could take a thief and turn him into an honest man; he could change a prostitute into an honorable woman; staunch followers of Diana became dedicated disciples of Jesus.

"The changes I saw began to make me wonder, 'What if I was to take Jesus Christ to be my Saviour?' It was not a light question, as I'm sure you know. Having a position, albeit a humble one, in the Temple of Diana demands a life of service, and anything less than fulfilling your vow to the goddess can get you killed. I had to look down both forks in the road and choose one. It was the hardest decision I ever made: stay in the temple and go about the daily chores of ministering to the needs of Diana, or leave the temple and become a fugitive with a death sentence on my head. It was at that moment that I realized that I had been looking at everything from the wrong viewpoint. I realized that question was not 'live or die,' it was 'die now and live forever, or live now and die forever?'"

Both prisoners sat in a thoughtful silence.

"İskender?"

"Yes, Nuray?"

"I don't know how I did not see this before. I have heard these truths more than once. Every time I heard them I thought back to the times that I had spoken with Diana – heard her voice and held conversations with her. How could a dead Jewish Messiah do me any good? I could never accept that this Jesus died, but did not stay dead. After all, no man can come back from the dead, and my goddess was not dead. I always asked in my heart why I should exchange a living goddess for a dead man. But that is not the right question, is it, İskender. Like you, I asked the wrong question. What I should have asked is, 'why shouldn't I exchange a treacherous goddess for a living God?'

"Oh, İskender I've been a fool: a hopeless fool." The last word came out as a sob.

"If you still draw breath, it is never too late to believe, Nuray." İskender said.

"But… Would Jesus take someone like me, İskender? I've broken my promises; I'm a liar, a thief… and worse…"

"Nuray, Jesus was talking with a Jewish Pharisee one night and told the man, 'That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Jesus was talking about Himself and He said 'whosoever,' Nuray. That means that anyone can come to Him and He will not cast them out."

Nuray thought quietly. The decision lay before her and no matter which road she chose there was no turning back from here.

"İskender?"

"Yes, Nuray?"

"I choose Jesus."

The moment she believed it was as though the terrible weight that she had been carrying all her life vanished in a single instant and not even the echoing footsteps of the approaching executioner could bring it back.


	7. Chapter 7: A Promise to Fulfill

**Chapter 7: A Promise to Fulfill**

The morning came and Simay's misery with it. Her mother was dead. The city she used to call her home was now a cesspool of guilt that she could not bring herself to face. Even High Priestess Aayla did not want her. Oh, she had said that she would take Simay, but the hostility with which the high priestess had said so told her everything she needed to know about Aayla's true feelings.

Simay got out of bed with a heavy heart and began to make preparations for the journey upon which she would embark in thirteen days. There was much to be done before she left; supplies to be discreetly horded, a house to be cleared out, a new identity to forge – memories to forget.

* * *

The girl slipped out of the small house not too long after dawn. The assassin made sure to keep her in sight as he followed her throughout the city, and he watched as she carefully and purposefully lifted several key items from the street vendors. He kept a list in his head: one sturdy rope; a well-made hammer; two canvas bags, one large, one small – both easily concealable in the girl's flowing robe; a single wooden bowl; several containers of pitch and a bit of food – enough to last the day.

After the girl had gathered everything she intended to take – at least for now – she quietly left the market.

The assassin was intrigued by her odd behavior. He could understand why she would take the food – even the bowl and hammer, but it did not make sense for her to steal the rest of the items, unless she was about to do the very thing that Aayla had sent him to stop her from doing – leaving.

He carefully shadowed the girl back to her home and watched as she stowed her prizes in the house. She spent the rest of the day inside the house – doing what, he wasn't exactly sure, but he was certain that she was still inside the house when darkness fell that night.

Six days, many more survival tools, and some other supplies later, the girl did something that she hadn't done before. Instead of heading to the market, the girl sneaked into the back room of a tradesman's house which sported a sign that read, "Quality Tents" and emerged with a small tent. She moved as quickly as she could back through the streets and hid the tent inside her hovel before walking nonchalantly back to the market where she stole her daily allotment of food before heading home once again.

Nothing else out of the ordinary happened until the sun set seven days after the girl had stolen the tent. His first hint that something was about to happen was that the girl spent more time in the market than usual and stole more non-perishable foodstuffs than would be needed for a day or two.

The girl was finally leaving, and she was going tonight. He was absolutely sure of it. The real questions now were where she would go and who she would go with. Unless she was incredibly foolish she would not dare travel alone. As for who she would go with, there were a few possibilities to choose from: a group of Bedouin shepherds were taking their goat herds through the area and would leave a few hours before dawn, heading south; a caravan of merchants were leaving around the same time of early morning and heading East; and two ships heading in opposite directions would leave port shortly after dawn.

It did not seem likely that she would take either of the ships: no sense in taking a tent if she did not need it. So it was down to the shepherds or the merchants. Unless she intended to disguise herself as a young shepherdess, it was unlikely that she would go with the Bedouins.

The assassin quickly left his hiding place within the broken down old house and followed the girl one last time to the camp of the merchant caravan. He watched as the girl persuaded the leader of the group to let her come with them to someplace that he couldn't quite catch the name of.

Apparently the merchant agreed to let the girl join them because she began to settle in with the group.

The assassin made an express decision. He quickly made some adjustments to his wardrobe and withdrew the stash of currency that Aayla had given to him two weeks ago to fund his "mission." He looked at the bag, thought about his decision and convinced himself that he was only doing what was necessary. After all, Aayla had told him to kill the girl if she tried to leave, but she did not say that he had to kill her before she left the city. Certainly Aayla had meant that he was to do away with the girl as unobtrusively as possible.

As he thought about it a little more he began to ask himself a very dangerous question. Why was it even necessary to kill her? She was no threat. The troublesome Nuray was already dead. The woman's daughter was virtually unknown to the people of Ephesus. Yes, the artifact that had been stolen all those years ago was still missing, but it was more likely that it had been stolen by an ambitious thief than by the former High Priestess of Diana. It was so far-fetched and border-line fanatical that he dismissed the possibility that Priestess Nuray had been the culprit. After all, there was no obvious reason to assume that the woman had committed any sin other than the breaking of her vows, and the daughter should not be punished for wrongs that Nuray had committed...

He looked down at his shoes, and pursed his lips in thought. To his surprise, he realized that he had decided not to obey the fearful Aayla, High Priestess of the revered Artemis Diana. He did not know when the change had truly occurred, but somewhere during the two weeks that he had been following the girl – Simay he remembered her name was – he had decided to let her live. He was still determined to watch her every move, and if she did anything that he construed as a threat to the Temple he would act, but for now, Simay would be free to go wherever she chose. So long as he went with her.

* * *

Esmail Al'Amin was leading Omar, his faithful, if not odoriferous, camel to the well for one last long drink before everyone turned in for the night. They had to head out very early to make sure they stayed on schedule.

The Arab drew out some water for Omar and poured it into a trough and kept filling the water pitcher until the trough was full enough to satisfy the camel.

When he poured his last pitcher-full of water into the trough, he looked up and almost dropped the pitcher when he saw a man standing silently in front of him.

Esmail's hand went immediately to the knife tucked into his belt.

The stranger held up a hand to indicate that he meant no harm to Esmail.

"I would like to travel with you, sir." The man said.

"You are a merchant?" Esmail asked skeptically.

"No. I am not a merchant. I only want to travel with you for a while, for my own safety. Where, perchance, are you going?"

Esmail looked askance at the stranger. He appeared to be an Ephesian, or perhaps from another nearby city. "We are returning to Qaryat al-Faw, in Arabia. We have been gone for some time and we wish to finally return home."

The stranger stared at Omar and finally said, "That is acceptable to me. What is your fee?"

"We do not accept strangers, Ephesian." Esmail said cautiously.

The stranger pointed back toward the caravan. "You just accepted a girl who I am sure is not one of you." Then to cover his tracks he continued, "I have seen her around the city for years," he lied.

Esmail was very uncomfortable with this man for a reason that he could not pinpoint, but against his better judgment he rescinded his earlier declaration.

"Perhaps, we have been known to accept a few. From time to time."

"Now, I ask you again, what is your fee?" the man persisted.

Esmail and the stranger haggled for several minutes and eventually came to a price that both men agreed was fair.

"Thank you for allowing me to come with you." The man nodded to the Arab. "What am I to call you?"

"You may call me Al'Amin. What shall I call you, Ephesian?"

The stranger nodded and replied, "I am…" he paused, looking as though he were thinking much too hard about something so simple as a name, "I am Malcus"

"Go and gather your belongings then, Malcus. We leave well before dawn."

* * *

Simay slept fitfully into the wee hours of the morning and she was dreadfully groggy by the time one of the members of the caravan came to wake her in time to prepare for the group's departure. She bundled up her bed roll and other miscellaneous belongings that she had not yet put away and sat in the back of one of the more generous merchant's wagons.

The sky was still dark when the caravan pulled out of Ephesus. Simay looked back on the only home she had ever known. Most of the windows were dark; the streets were almost completely empty. The stars shone brightly in the sky over her head and she looked up at them with a sad smile.

"Leaving." The word echoed in her head over and over. "I'm really leaving."

To distract herself from reality, she began to rehearse her story in her mind. She was the daughter of a Roman merchant named Jason and his Ephesian wife. Two years ago, both of her parents had died in a fire and she, like a good daughter, was seeking to learn more about the family business as her father would have wished.

She bit her lip. Her story was mostly plausible at least. The man she had talked into letting her join the caravan had seemed convinced enough. He had even agreed to let her work in exchange for her keep. Simay had been surprised when the Arab had accepted the offer she had made, but she did not question her good fortune.

During the semi-confusion of the departure, Simay had only seen one other person who looked as if they were from the area around Ephesus – a man she didn't recognize, but who looked to be about eight or nine years her senior. He was a nice-looking young man; at least, he looked no worse than the other twenty-somethings she had seen in Ephesus.

Simay let her mind continue to wander as the cool before-dawn air brushed past her face, leaving her cheeks pink.

* * *

Two months after Simay's departure, the caravan stopped at a small city whose name she could neither pronounce nor remember after Esmail, their leader announced that they would be stopping there.

As was her habit at any town they stopped in, Simay followed the merchants to the local marketplace and helped set up some of the stalls. She resisted the temptation to steal some of the caravan merchants' goods. She reserved that activity for the locals' merchandise.

Simay walked around the market, looking much like just another young person.

"If only they knew." She thought to herself. Her life had become surreal in just five and a half years. It was almost too much to think about, but she could not help herself. Her past was what had made her who she was. She always found herself torn in two directions – forget who she was and start over as she had intended to do upon leaving Ephesus, or continue her life and use her past to her advantage.

Every time Simay was tempted to forget, the now-familiar voice of the Spirit of Diana whispered reassurances in her mind. After all, no one could be expected to be responsible for an irresponsible parent's actions. The spirit always reminded her that she was only doing what she needed to live her own life the way she was meant to live it – her own way.

One particular night after she had joined the caravan, Simay realized that she was no longer the timid child she had been before leaving home – before… betraying her mother. Simay had allowed her familiar spirit to guide her actions, to make suggestions to her, to require her obedience. There were few things she would not do for the Spirit of Diana's sake.

During the first few days of her "freedom" – that was what Simay called her stint with the merchants – she had considered leaving the silver statue buried in a hole somewhere out in the wilderness of Asia. She did not think like that for very long. One night, Diana had spoken to her through the statue. Simay remembered those words as if they had been seared into her mind.

"Oh, Simay, Simay. You know that you have a promise to fulfill. You remember what happened to your mother because she broke a promise to me. I do not want that to happen to you, but if you disobey, there must be consequences. It would ruin my credibility if I did not follow through on my own promises."

Simay remembered wanting to scream, but not daring to.

"Diana is right after all. It would be wrong to break a promise – especially one as serious as this one," Simay thought as she emerged from her memories and continued to wander the local market, "picking up a few things" as she went.

At first, everything went as it usually did. Simay stole what she needed – and sometimes something she didn't need – helped out at one of the caravan merchant's stalls for a while, and then headed back to the campsite where some of the servants and the hired security personnel stayed during the day.

She was almost within sight of the camels when a giant of a man stepped in front of her. He had to be at least seven feet tall, and each of his arms was almost as big around as her waist.

"Where da you think you're goin'?" he growled.

His squinty eyes and bald head would have make Simay laugh if she wasn't so utterly horrified by the tone of his voice.

"You deaf, girl?!"

"N-no." she stuttered. "I'm n-not. I'm going back to the c-caravan."

"You're one a' them foreigners then." The man raised a threatening fist.

"N-no. I'm from E-ephesus." She stared up into the man's tiny black eyes, hoping that he would believe her.

"Right. An' I'm a anchovy. You're gonna come wit' me. An' you're gonna be quiet about it. Got it?"

Simay thought for a second about running, but the look in the man's eyes made her cower and she nodded in agreement. After all, how could she fulfill a promise if she were dead?

The big man took her tiny hand in his gigantic one and led her to a large, broken-down house near the center of the city. The man swept aside the curtain that substituted for a front door, and the two stepped into a poorly lit room. The front windows of the house had been covered over and when the door-curtain was closed again, not much light was able to enter the house.

Simay was led to a small room and tossed through the door, which slammed shut behind her. The room had one window, covered by a thick curtain of course. The room smelled thickly of body odor, rotten food, and some other more unpleasant smells. In the darkness she heard shuffling. The more she listened, the more frightened she became. She looked around the whole room, squinting to try to see where the noise was coming from.

Something brushed her arm and she screamed.

"Shh." The voice gave Simay a substantial shock.

"W-who are you?!" she demanded.

"You don't need to be afraid of us. We're just like you." The voice sounded very forlorn and lost.

"There – there's more than one of you?!"

"Of course. There are about ten of us in this room, including you." The sad voice said.

"What is this place?" Simay asked, fearing the answer.

"Isn't it obvious? We're to be taken to some faraway place, where our families will never find us, and sold as slaves." The person speaking suddenly entered her field of vision and Simay jumped at the sight. The girl was raggedly dressed and looked as though she had been stuck in this pen for weeks. Perhaps she had been.

"W-who are you?" Simay asked again, this time a little less sharply.

"Me? I'm nobody. But the other girls call me Seda. Who are you?" the other girl stared at Simay.

"I am Simay… I'm from Ephesus." Simay hoped that Seda would not pry anymore.

"Okay, Simay. Welcome to our group. Most of us have been here for about a month. Some have just recently been captured. You are the newest one to come to us. No one knows how much longer we'll be here, but from listening to the head man's minions, we'll be leaving soon."

Simay's heart plummeted down into her stomach and stayed there. She couldn't be taken from the caravan. The statue was still among her belongings back at camp…

"Diana, help me…" she mumbled.

Just then another man, this one more normally sized, stuck his head into the room and yelled, "Get ready to go ya dirt bags! We're leavin' in a hour!" The slamming door punctuated his command.

Simay fell to her knees and began to cry. If she were taken away from the caravan and sold, she would not be able to get to the Arabian Desert. Whoever bought her would never just let her go. And the silver bear, which Diana had wanted her to guard, would be forever lost to her.

"Simay." Seda shook the other girl by her shoulders. "Crying will only get you in trouble. Believe me, I tried it. You'll get a smack in the face and no dinner."

Simay did her best to stop crying, to lock away her despair for now. She succeeded.

"Good." Seda said. "Now, go help the other girls get ready to leave." she pointed to one of the small groups of girls crouched in one corner.

Simay nodded and shuffled over to the girls.

* * *

Just as he had promised, the man who had announced their imminent departure came back an hour later to herd them all out the back of the house and into several enclosed wagons.

To Simay's relief, she was shoved into the same wagon as Seda along with a few other girls and some younger boys.

Simay considered trying to get Seda's attention, but after witnessing a few girls trying to scream for help and being knocked over the head for their efforts, Simay knew talking was probably a bad idea.

After a few hours of sitting silently in the swaying wagon, the sky started to darken. Night fell silently over the slave-train, giving the captured children and teenagers some relief from the stifling heat of the wagons.

The prisoners were let out of the wagon briefly. A morsel of food and some water was handed to each one as he or she was shoved back into the wagons.

The night seemed to crawl by and Simay sat awake in the wagon. Most of the others had finally fallen asleep, but Simay could not. She was haunted by what had happened to her over the past day.

"Simay…" the echoing whisper melted through the walls and into her mind.

"Diana?" Simay whispered back.

"Yes, Simay. It is I." the reply came.

"I have failed you, my goddess." Simay despaired.

"Not yet, you have not, Simay. Not yet…" the whisper faded.

"Diana?" Simay heard nothing. "Diana?!" she whispered desperately. "Come back!"

Simay heard the lock on the wagon being broken, and the door flew open.

She saw the face of a man in the light of the bright full moon and she nearly fainted in surprise when realization dawned on her.


	8. Intermission 1

**Intermission**

The sound of footsteps in the hallway forced the prince to temporarily stop the recording. Just in case. He doubted anyone would be able to get into the room, but if the wrong person discovered that he had been in here, they would tell his father. He didn't want that to happen.

He quickly checked the time and discovered that he had been in here for three hours. He should have been at his final military strategy exam twenty minutes ago. He shrugged it off. He hated being late, but he never needed the whole time for those tests anyway.

He snatched the small message capsule up from the still-dusty bed and carefully tucked it into an invisible pocket where it would be safe from discovery.

His booted feet made no sound as he carefully stepped over to the door to listen. Whoever had been out there before was gone now. Probably just one of the security guards sentenced to patrol the boring end of the palace.

He pushed the button that would open the locked door and was through it before it was halfway open. It took another half a second to close and seal the door again.

He discovered that he didn't need to sneak back out of the deserted wing. No one was even out looking for him.

Since there was no point in sneaking back to his exam, he walked all the way back in solitary silence.

* * *

At the sound of the door hissing open, Admiral Raymond Talan looked up to see his missing student stepping through the door. One look at the young man's face told him not to push the issue.

Raymond's son Masterson, though in the middle of concentrating on the exam, also looked up when he heard Desslok enter. The prince nodded at the admiral, and avoided Masterson's questioning face altogether before sitting down to take the test.

After glancing through the questions, Desslok thought back to a conversation between Admiral Talan and Deun, his father, a conversation he was not supposed to have overheard. The memory echoed in his mind.

_"Leader Deun, he is still your son, even if he is not your firstborn." Raymond tried to reason with his ruler. To no avail._

_"I have only one child, Talan." Deun replied._

_Raymond's face clouded for a moment before he spoke._

_"Forgive me Sire, but you remember what happened fifteen years ago. You cannot have forgotten about your -"_

_"I told you never to speak of that again!" Deun turned an enraged face toward his trusted aide-de-camp._

_Raymond bowed his head in acquiescence before replying, "As I have already said Sire, he is still your son. Nothing can change that: not time, or death, not even you, my friend." _

_There was silence for a time as Deun's anger rolled off of him in menacing waves._

_Raymond tried one more time. "Your youngest child needs you. His childhood is almost over and he needs someone to teach him what it means to be a man – to be responsible for more than himself, to use what he knows to make someone else's life easier, to change his homeworld for the better, to – "_

_"Then you teach him, Talan!" Deun turned and yelled in Raymond's unflinching face then whispered, "I have only one child, and it is not that twice-marked urchin who just happens to bear my father's name."_

_Raymond stared at his friend and said, "She would never have wanted this..."_

_Deun quickly turned away and ran one hand through his dark brown hair, then briefly stroked his short beard. "That is none of your concern, Admiral Talan."_

_The bite in Deun's words left Raymond's good heart stinging._

_Without looking back, Leader Deun I walked away._

From that day onward, Desslok's father had neither spoken to nor intentionally been in the same room with him.

The prince shook the memory away like dirty pond water before switching his concentration back to moving the holographic test pieces to their appropriate locations before assailing his unfortunate virtual opponent with all the anger that he had harbored since the day he had overheard his father and new schoolmaster's confrontation.

An hour and a half later, both of Admiral Talan's students left the exam room victorious over their manufactured foes. Raymond watched as his son and the prince headed back towards their respective living spaces.

Desslok and Masterson walked in silence. Masterson knew better than to intrude on his troubled friend's thoughts. Ever since the two teenagers had first met, those seven long years ago at the age of eight they had been friends. A lot of water had gone under the bridge of their friendship since then. Desslok's mother's death – her murder – the funeral, the rejection, the loneliness… Masterson had spent many a long afternoon sitting out on his family's terrace with the prince and listening as Desslok poured out his soul to the only person he thought he could trust.

A lot of words passed between the two that they had both agreed would never reach anyone else's ears. The prince had been brutally honest about what he thought of his father. Some of what he had said could even be construed as treason, but to Masterson, the venting of a hurting heart could not be so easily labeled. He took everything he heard with a grain of salt, sometimes a whole handful of it.

Masterson had told Desslok over and over that there was only one way to fill the cracks in his heart.

Expressing his faith around the prince sometimes got him an angry look, the occasional cold stare and once a very fiery, "I don't want to hear it!" But ever the persistent one, Masterson had never given up. And he never would.

Desslok let the sound of his and Masterson's footsteps echo through his head as something his father had said to Admiral Talan during that fateful conversation struck him as it never had before. Perhaps because before today he had never known what his mother had revealed to him about her family's past.

He really was a twice-marked child. He ran his half-white left hand through his red-orange hair and shook his head, letting his hair fall back across his forehead. He did not understand the full implications of either mark yet, but he had a feeling that once he got another chance to sit down and continue his mother's explanation, he would understand at least one of them in due time. For now, he needed to think about something else, and he turned his mind to the Talan family.

Masterson and his parents had become something of a surrogate family for him over these past three years, ever since the Admiral and his father had had their "discussion" about him.

Even though Desslok had known about Masterson's father and the reputation that preceded him, the prince had been a little surprised to learn that everything he had heard the rank and file soldiers say about the Admiral was true. Many of the enlisted men had dubbed their superior "Sir Raymond." The Admiral was not only a teacher of the highest caliber, but he was not beneath hearing out his subordinates. He knew when to push and when to stop – a skill lost to many of the officers in the Gamilon military.

Most of the people who met the man used the same word to describe him, "עבך׳ת" – "chivalrous." The Admiral was indeed that. Raymond Talan was the only person he could ever remember his father referring to as a friend, so he supposed that he and his father had at least one thing in common – trust for the Talan family.

"Sir?"

At the sound of that one word, one corner of the prince's mouth turned upward ever so slightly and he let out a short laugh. "Masterson, you know you don't have to call me that."

"You are of the royal line of Gamilon. Even if your father does not recognize you as such, you are still a prince, and that means that you deserve the respect due your position."

Desslok looked at his friend and let out a loud sigh, "You seem to be the only one who remembers that…" He looked out one of the gigantic windows that lined the palace hallway. The ever-burning altar outside the Temple shone brilliantly in the dimming light. The shadows of the priests of Adonai crossed back and forth in the twilight.

"Well, your father will be very unhappy with both of us if we don't study this evening for his Galactic History exam tomorrow morning."

Masterson grimaced and nodded reluctantly. "True." he took a long look at Desslok, trying to figure out what else he should say.

"Masterson?" the prince looked at the other young man with eyes that were far away.

"Yes?"

Desslok shook the dazed look off of his face, "Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow." He said as he turned and walked farther down the hallway and into his quarters.

* * *

As soon as the door was closed and he was sure no one would interrupt him for a while, Desslok took out his mother's message capsule again. He stared at the crystalline heart of the device and half a second later he almost jumped. The capsule began to lift itself out of the palm of his hand. It began spinning – slowly at first, then more quickly. Light poured out of the crimson shell on either end of the device and spilled through the transparent center shaft and blue core.

Desslok let the capsule float on its own and stepped back. He looked quizzically at the object as it rose above his head. All the light beaming out of the capsule flowed down to one area of the device and fell into a puddle on the floor below. An image began to form in front of his eyes as he heard his mother's voice singing unfamiliar words:

"I've struggled on the journey,  
'Gainst storm and wind and tide,  
Now like a weary trav'ler  
That leaneth on his Guide  
Amid the darksome shadows,  
While sinks life's ling'ring sand,  
I hail the glory dawning  
In Immanuel's land."

The melody hung in his mind like a phantasm, and although he heard every word clearly, their meaning was lost to him.

Before he could make an attempt to understand what he had just heard, instead of just her face, a life-sized hologram of his mother finished materializing before his eyes. Ironically, the first thing he thought when he saw her was that she was short. Then he remembered that the last time he had stood face to face with her, he had been younger and much shorter than she.

"I know you never really cared for my music, Desslok, but I pray that someday you will love it, and the God who made it, the way I do. Today I stand in His presence, my son. I hope that you will be here with me someday.

"Now, I would recommend that you sit down." A chair materialized and she sat in it. "If you are seeing this portion of my message to you, then you have had to interrupt my telling of this history, and, as I am sure you have concluded, there is so much more to tell you." She smiled.

Even though he knew she was only a collection of colored light, it seemed as if she was actually sitting across from him, and, impossibly – across time and in spite of death, she looked into her younger son's face and said, "No matter what you do, or who you become, you will always be my son, and I love you."

Talonka's image waited a moment before picking up where he had stopped the retelling earlier in the day.

* * *

**Intermission References:**

**- _The Holy Bible. Leviticus_. Zondervan. 1976.**

**- "The Sands of Time Are Sinking" by Anne R. Cousin**


	9. Chapter 8: Completely Unorthodox

**Chapter 8: Completely Unorthodox**

"You! Who are you?!" Simay exclaimed as quietly as she could in her fear.

Seda stared wide-eyed at the dark-haired, brown-skinned stranger shrouded in midnight moonlight.

"There is no need to be quiet, Simay. I mixed a little something special in with their food after they had served everyone under twenty." The man said.

Simay was speechless, but her wordlessness wore off within the minute.

"How do you know my name?" Simay demanded, a little more loudly this time.

"I joined the caravan just after you did. My name is Malcus. Now, how about we get all of you out of here." He beckoned the two girls out of the wagon before waking up all the other captured children and teenagers.

No one argued with their strange rescuer. All of the former slaves-to-be scattered in different directions and disappeared into the night – all of them that was, except Seda. The girl remained at Simay's side as the group of three quickly ran back to the pair of swift and beautiful dish-faced horses that Malcus had somehow brought for them.

Malcus helped the two girls up onto one horse and then swung up onto his own. Simay and Malcus urged the mounts into an easy canter for a minute before spurring them on to a faster pace. The horses made good time through the cool desert sand.

Simay looked around once in a while as they rode, but she did not recognize anything. She was too concerned that despite the heavy sedative the slavers would awaken to find that their income had run away. She feared that they would find the hoofprints and pursue them.

After riding for a while with no signs of pursuit, Malcus motioned a halt. Simay pulled her mount to a not-so-sudden stop. The highly-strung Arabian picked up on Simay's nerves and chomped at his bit trying to get control of it. Simay did not allow him that luxury and within a few minutes both the horse and Simay were a little calmer.

"Are you okay, Seda?" Simay asked breathing heavily from the adrenaline-fueled ride for freedom.

"Yes. I'm fine." Seda managed through labored breaths of her own.

"Okay." Simay whispered before jumping off of the heaving horse and stomping over to Malcus.

"I'm sorry I had to get you out so quickly without -" he did not get a chance to finish.

Simay's hand came flying towards Malcus's face and Seda grimaced as she heard a loud slap.

"What was that for?!" Malcus's irritation started to show. "I just saved you and you hit me?"

"I don't even know you!" Simay whispered loudly. "I've seen you a handful of times at most. How do I know you don't have self-serving intentions of your own?"

"You came with me, didn't you?" he retorted.

Simay looked down at the sand. "I did." She pursed her lips and looked up at him. For the first time she noticed that he didn't look quite as average as she had first thought he did. She shook the thought out of her head. She didn't even know this man.

"Simay." Malcus took hold of her shoulders. The suddenness of his movement made her jump and she resisted the urge to shriek.

Malcus's frustration melted when he saw Simay's startled look, and he tried to reassure her, "Simay, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you or your friend. I want to help you. I know I haven't really given you any other reason to trust me than getting you out of that wagon back there, but I think I have something here that will help."

Simay watched in stunned silence as the young man reached into one of his saddle bags and withdrew something that glinted in the starlight.

"I believe you left this back at camp." He handed the item to her.

Simay almost cried when the little silver bear slipped into her hands. She looked down at the statue, then back up at Malcus and back to the statue.

Malcus smiled down at Simay and the dam holding back her tears burst. She threw her arms around her rescuer's waist and hugged him in gratitude.

Malcus looked down at the short girl and hugged her in return. His tall frame made the movement a little awkward, but he managed it.

He realized again that he was going completely against his High Priestess's wishes and that he didn't care a wit about his rebellion.

When Simay finally let go of Malcus, she looked around and realized that the young man had not made them stop randomly in the desert. There was a nearby rock formation beside which waited a few well-supplied camels.

Simay looked back at Seda. The other girl had gotten down off of the horse and was pretending to stoke its muzzle while awkwardly sneaking glances at Simay and Malcus. When she saw Seda's surreptitious glances she realized what she was doing and immediately let go of the young man.

"Th-thank you, sir."

Malcus laughed and Simay scowled at him. "I'm not laughing at you Simay. You don't have to call me 'sir.' I'm only twenty-five. You make me feel like my grandfather when you call me that."

"Oh." Simay let a little smile replace her frown. She realized that it was one of the first real signs of mirth that she had had since she was six.

"Now, what is your friend's name?" he asked.

"That's Seda." Simay said as she motioned the girl over to them.

Seda led the now-calm horse over to Simay and Malcus.

"Seda helped all the girls who had been caught by the slavers. She helped us to not be so afraid of everything that had happened to us. She probably didn't think that what she did was much, but it was." Simay smiled gratefully at her new friend. "So if you're taking me somewhere, I want you to take Seda too." She looked at the other girl, "Unless you have family to go back to or some other place better to be that is." Simay looked at Seda hopefully.

Seda looked Malcus up and down carefully and then looked back at Simay. The girl nodded and smiled. "I'll come with you. I suppose you can't go off with this guy alone."

Simay hugged her new friend and a real smile spread across her face. "Thank you!"

"Well, if you girls are done with your theatrics, we had better go pick up the camels and get going."

Both girls nodded and helped each other get back up on their horse. They rode the short distance from where they were over to the camels. Malcus wasted no time in tying the camels together and connecting the lead line to the girls' saddle, then connecting their horse to his own.

Soon their little patchwork caravan was moving.

* * *

Over the next several months, Seda learned about Simay's past and through a series of rather frightening encounters, she learned about the Spirit of Diana as well. As a result, Seda became the very first follower of Simay and her descendants.

One night several days after Seda's decision to pledge her loyalty to Simay's goddess, Simay was sitting by the campfire with Malcus discussing their respective pasts.

"You're a Jew?!" Simay exclaimed.

"By blood, yes, but not by religion. I became a follower of Artemis when I was sixteen. My family lived in Lystra. I ran away from home when I was a little younger than you, and I ended up in Ephesus." He conveniently left out that he had spent the past seven years as a Temple-employed assassin. Simay did not need to know about the part of his life anyway. He wasn't going back to hunting down innocents.

"Well, I never would have guessed it, Malcus. You don't have a Jewish name."

"I changed it."

"Oh. I suppose you shave too?"

"Never could grow facial hair." Malcus shrugged.

Simay laughed and shook her head.

"Now that you know my secret…" Malcus probed, "What were you and Seda talking about a few nights ago, when you both stayed up all night and were dead tired the next day?"

Simay stopped laughing. "I'm not sure you really want to know about that, Malcus. It's not that important."

"It seemed to be important enough a few days ago."

Simay looked away. "Well, maybe it was important." she admitted.

"What was it then?" he tried again.

Simay sat silently for a moment looking into the flickering fire.

"Malcus?" she looked back at him. "Do you remember about ten years ago when there was that huge uproar about someone stealing one of the Temple artifacts while most of the town was at that meeting in the amphitorium?"

"Yes, I remember that."

"Well…" she looked away again. "I was there when it happened."

"But you would only have been six years old. Why would you have been there?"

"Because – because my mother was the thief." Simay finally looked at Malcus again.

Malcus looked at Simay very strangely. "Simay… you don't mean to tell me that that bear is from – "

"Yes, Malcus it is. And I'm not taking it back! Ever! It's too late to do that anyway."

"Okay. Okay. I wasn't going to try to make you. I know better than that by now." Malcus defended.

"Good." Simay said defiantly, but a little less angrily. She folded her arms and stared back at the fire.

"Simay." Malcus intruded.

"What?"

"I'm sure there was a good reason for what your mother did."

"You bet there was." Simay's words had a bite to them.

"Would you tell me?" he gently prodded.

Simay let out a loud sigh. "I guess."

Malcus sat attentively as Simay recounted to him how her mother had taken the statue; the events that had transpired a little bit later that fateful night when Nuray had made the pact with Diana; the drudgery of the next years as Simay had been forced to take care of herself for the most part; the night she had betrayed her mother…

"That night when I got home, Diana told me about the caravan leaving Ephesus. She told me that I needed to go to the Arabian Desert. I have to get there, Malcus! I can't break my promise to Diana." Tears ran down Simay's face as she said this.

Malcus put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll get there, Simay. I promise you we will."

Simay attempted to smile at him through her tears.

After that night, Simay and Malcus had many conversations that lasted well into the night. Sometimes Seda joined them, but more often than not she left them to themselves. Malcus dedicated himself to helping Simay fulfill her mother's promise to Diana and became the second follower of Simay and her line.

* * *

Two years later, not long after Simay's eighteenth birthday, Malcus asked Simay to take a walk with him a short distance from the camp. It was late and Seda was already asleep, but Simay agreed to come. Malcus took Simay's hand in his and led her out across the now-cool sands.

A little way out from the camp, Simay realized that she had forgotten to bring anything to shield her from the cold of the desert night.

Malcus noticed her discomfort and draped his outer cloak around Simay's shoulders.

The two engaged in friendly banter as they waded through the sand to some unknown destination.

Malcus finally called a halt. Simay was out of breath from the climb up the sand dune that they now stood atop.

"Why are we all the way out here, Malcus?" Simay looked sideways at the young man who had become her best friend over the last two years.

"Do you remember the night I saved you from those mercenary slavers?"

"Of course I remember. That was the night I slapped you."

"Oh, is that how you remember it?" Malcus grinned.

"And what if it is? I very much enjoyed that slap, thank you. You deserved it." She smiled back.

"Maybe I did." He relented. "But do you know why I rescued you?"

Simay sensed that this conversation was about to go in a completely different direction. "Why…?" she asked warily.

"I didn't want to tell you then. I was afraid you wouldn't believe me…"

"I'll believe you now." She assured him.

"I know, Simay." He sighed and looked down for a moment. His feet shifted uneasily in the sand and the fine grains poured into his sandals, over his brown feet and between his toes. He did not seem to register the irritant. "I know your mother is gone, and you never really talk about your father. For all I know my parents are dead. In any case, they don't know where I am or what I'm doing. I guess that makes you and me orphans of sorts."

"I suppose so." Simay agreed.

"And since we're orphans that means that there isn't anyone else to make important decisions for us, right?" he looked at her for confirmation.

Simay nodded slowly.

"There's something very important that I need to tell you, Simay." He took both of her hands and held them in his. "The reason I joined that caravan two years ago was because of you."

She looked at Malcus questioningly. "Because of me? But that doesn't make any sense. You didn't even know me."

"But I did, Simay." He said very seriously. "I – I was hired."

"Hired? For what?"

"I was hired to kill you."

At his words, Simay froze. Fear shrouded her face now. She didn't struggle. She didn't even try to pull her captured hands away. The only thing that went through her mind was that Diana had betrayed her, just like the goddess had betrayed her mother, but she was caught completely off guard by Malcus's next words.

"I followed you home from the Temple that night. I watched you those next two weeks as you prepared to leave Ephesus, and I intended to kill you as soon as you made a move to leave the city limits, but Aayla never counted on her prized assassin growing a conscience… and a heart. I couldn't do it – I couldn't kill you."

"Wh – what are you saying, Malcus?"

"I'm saying I love you!"

Simay stood there in utter shock. "Malcus…"

He looked at her and said not a word as he waited for her to process everything he had just said to her. He knew that once she understood the implications of his words that she would either slap him again or hug him. To his relief, she did the latter.

"You make no sense to me, Malcus." Simay said quietly as she hugged him. "But I have something I need to tell you too."

"Yes?"

"I love you too, Malcus."

"You do?!"

"Yes, I do." She said seriously.

The two of them stood quietly on the windy sand dune until Malcus sprang one more surprise on Simay.

"This is completely unorthodox and downright unacceptable in most places, but since your father is not here to make this decision for you, I would like to ask you to make it yourself."

Simay's heart began to beat faster as she started to understand why Malcus had brought her here tonight.

"Would you consent to becoming my wife?" he said and waited anxiously for Simay's reply.

"Do you have anymore secrets I should know about? A fortune or something?"

"No." he chuckled with relief. "Unfortunately not."

"Then, yes. I will be your wife." She smiled mischievously, "As long as you get to get the camel chips for the camp fires."

"Okay." He relented. "I guess I can do that."


	10. Chapter 9: Some Trust in Chariots

**Chapter 9: Some Trust in Chariots**

Malcus and Simay were married at the next available stop, a small city near Antioch in Syria. The ceremony was short and simple. When it was done, the new couple left the town with Seda and their animals, earning more than one side-long glance from the locals. Apparently the Syrians were not used to seeing such a motley crew trucking through their front yards.

Their little caravan continued on its journey towards the great desert when a series of expected events waylaid the tiny band.

* * *

"Malcus, the fire is dying, would you mind building it back up?" Simay called to her husband as she sanded the cooking utensils clean.

When no response came, Simay turned around to look at Malcus. He was standing very still, staring out into the darkness that circled their small camp. At first Simay couldn't see what he was looking so intently at. The light of the fire kept her eyes from adjusting enough to see, but she thought she saw something moving – coming toward Malcus from the outer darkness.

Malcus drew his sword and brandished it at the shape. Whether it was animal or human, Simay could not yet tell, but her question was answered when it spoke.

"Is there room at your fire for a fellow traveler, sir?" the person – seemingly a man – said.

Simay's ears honed in on the voice. It seemed to have a familiar sound to it, but it could very easily have been a combination of the night sounds, Seda's tent flap, and the shuffling of the stranger's outer robe.

"Who are you?" Malcus demanded.

"I am a man seeking refuge from those who would take my life." He said with a now unmistakable accent.

At this Malcus looked critically at the man, his sword still extended.

"What is your name, stranger?" Malcus pried again.

"I call myself Sojourner." Came the response.

"Why should I trust you, Sojourner?"

"I never said you had to trust me."

Silence.

"Go stand by the fire and take off your coat."

The stranger obeyed and Malcus proceeded to search him thoroughly, producing the normal array of weaponry from the man: one sharp dagger, a hunting knife, a short sword, a slingshot, and a sturdy rod – probably a walking stick. There were no strange markings on any of his possessions. The only thing out of the ordinary that Malcus could find was a collection of scrolls written in Hebrew. He decided they were not dangerous and respectfully placed them back in Sojourner's pack just as he had found them.

While Malcus was rummaging in the stranger's belongings, Simay stared at the man thoughtfully. His skin was about the same shade as her own. His hair and beard were dark; his eyes were dark brown, but had a look of kindness about them that reminded her of the dream that she had never forgotten…

Seda poked her head out of her tent to see what the commotion outside was about. When she saw the stranger, her brow furrowed. His back was to her, so all that she could see was that he was tall of stature and broad-shouldered – not much information to go on. Since she didn't know who he was or why he was here, she decided to stay in her tent and watch safely from there.

Simay noticed Seda's inquiring face, but said nothing since Seda did not emerge from the tent. Malcus returned from searching the stranger's pack looking a little more settled but still uncomfortable.

He addressed Sojourner, "I still don't know who you are or why you're here, and I'm not entirely convinced you're not crazy, but you don't seem to be a threat to us. But I still get to keep these." Malcus pointed to the weapons he had confiscated, "At least until you prove to us that we can trust you."

"I understand," Sojourner nodded understandingly. "May I use your fire? I have my own food and tent."

Malcus nodded and motioned for the man to go get his food from his pack.

"Would you object to me reading while I eat?"

"You mean the scrolls in your pack?"

"Yes."

Malcus thought a moment, "I don't see why you shouldn't." he shrugged before throwing an assuring glance in Simay's direction and adding, "But if you do anything that I consider threatening, you'll feel the blade of my sword."

"Understood." Sojourner agreed before going back to his belongings and retrieving both food and scroll.

The stranger didn't say much as he warmed his food, set up his tent, ate, and read. Simay watched him as he did these things and she still had the feeling that something about him was very familiar. The conviction began to grow in her gut that she needed to speak with this man, but it wasn't the familiar voice of Diana that was prodding her. This simple fact almost made her want to reject the urge, but what harm could it do? All she wanted to do was talk with the man for a minute, so she chanced it.

"Sojourner…?" she ventured cautiously, taking two steps closer to him.

He looked up from his reading, "Yes?"

Again the look in this man's eyes struck Simay. The face that framed them was entirely different, but the eyes were so similar…

"Is there something you wanted to ask me?" Sojourner said.

Simay stared at him blankly for a moment then realized that she had been spoken to. "Oh! I'm sorry. You just… looked familiar for a moment."

Sojourner smiled. "You look like you might be from the same part of the world as I am."

Simay nodded. "I grew up in Ephesus."

There was a moment of silence as Simay sifted through the sand with her sandal and thought about what she should say next – if anything.

"What are you reading?" she blurted out suddenly.

"The words of the Prophet Isaiah."

"Oh."

"Have you ever heard any of them?"

"Any of what?" Simay asked, a little confused.

"Have you ever heard any of what Isaiah said?" Sojourner looked a little more intently at the young woman.

Simay blinked a few times. To the stranger, she appeared to be thinking – remembering something.

"Yes… Yes, I have heard something of what he said once… a few years ago." She paused, "Something like… 'and with his stripes we are… healed.'"

"Yes, that's a very small portion of what Isaiah said. He spoke of Messiah when he wrote that."

"A strange thing for an Ephesian to know about." Simay replied cautiously.

"Perhaps." He agreed, "If I were the man I used to be."

Before Simay got the chance to pursue Sojourner's ominous statement, Malcus called her from the other side of the camp, and she was obliged to leave the stranger and their awkward exchange.

* * *

"Simay!"

Her ears rang with the shout, but the anxiety in her husband's voice made her instantly snap awake.

"Stay here!" he yelled, sword in hand.

"What's going on?!" Simay interjected into the mayhem, but Malcus had already run out of the tent and into the chaos outside. She bolstered her courage and took a look outside. What she saw sent a wave of terror running through her.

Sojourner was standing in the middle of their small camp, a broadsword in his left hand. His brown face was lifted up toward heaven as thunder and lightning coalesced into a rare and exotic thunderstorm. The rain pelted down in torrents on the Ephesian as Malcus ran to stand with him. Seda was already standing out in the rainstorm with her newly made bow drawn and aimed.

Men – dozens of men armed to the hilt with every weapon imaginable and some unimaginable – were descending on the camp.

Her fear escalated as the band moved closer and closer. Even in her fear, Simay was confused by Sojourner's actions. He wasn't even looking at the oncoming horde and he had let his sword fall to the ground. His face was still upturned and she could hear him saying something over the torrential storm. The ambient cacophony masked most of what he said. She only heard a few words here and there and one clear phrase, "open their eyes."

She blinked. And nearly fell over in shock. The night lit up like a desert at midday. The light confused her eyes for a few moments as the threatening horde continued their approach. When her eyes finally adjusted she forgot about the band of men entirely.

Simay stepped out of her tent and turned completely around twice to survey the camp. The area was surrounded by men whose faces shone with heavenly light. Each man gripped a great sword in one hand. They needed no shield; no mortal man would ever be able to do them harm. Every man looked different – almost as if they were human, but Simay knew in her heart that they were far from that and it frightened her to continue to gaze on the awesome sight. But as hard as she tried, she could not pry her eyes away despite the icy fist in her gut and the faint reprimand in her mind – from Diana she knew. The goddess was infuriated at this turn of events for some reason, but try as she might, she could not concentrate on Diana's voice.

The rain continued to beat down, but in the brightness of the protecting army, the raindrops glowed as they fell in a torrent of heaven-sent stars.

Simay finally turned her face toward Sojourner to see what the stranger was doing. The Ephesian was still in the same place as he had been before, but he was on his knees, his hands raised toward the sky, his head bowed low. From his lips escaped a song that Simay did not know or understand,

The LORD hear thee in the day of trouble;  
the name of the God of Jacob defend thee;  
Send thee help from the sanctuary,  
and strengthen thee out of Zion;  
Remember all thy offerings,  
and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah.

Grant thee according to thine own heart,  
and fulfill thy counsel.  
We will rejoice in thy salvation,  
and in the name of our God we will set up our banners:  
the LORD fulfill all thy petitions.

Now know that I the LORD saveth his anointed;  
he will hear him from his holy heaven  
with the saving strength of his right hand.  
Some trust in chariots, and some in horses:  
but we will remember the name of the LORD our God.

They are brought down and fallen:  
but we are risen, and stand upright.  
Save, LORD: let the king hear us when we call.

Malcus stared at the stranger for a long time, forgetting that a wave of men was about to come crashing down on them at any second. He remembered this psalm from many years ago – before he had left home. He had heard it read aloud in the synagogue and sung by the Levites, but he had never heard a Gentile utter those treasured words before. He did not understand why, but it sent a shiver up his spine.

Seda did not pay any heed to Sojourner. She did not appear to be able to see the glowing wall spread out before her. In fact, she appeared to still be fixated on the men flooding their way. Her bow was still at the ready and she was about to loose her first arrow when the band of men suddenly hit the wall of heavenly beings surrounding the camp. It was like ocean waves hitting sheer rock walls. No man passed the barrier, and no man who came into contact with the shining ones lived to tell about it.

The men – who were now close enough to be identified as a mix of bandits and renegade Roman soldiers – stopped suddenly when they saw that their fellows fell dead for no obvious reason at the feet of the singing stranger and his ragtag company. Some of the former soldiers began to circle the camp and attempted to come into the small space from different ways. They all fell dead onto the cold sand.

Suddenly, the looks on the faces of the bandits morphed from ridicule to terror as their own eyes were opened and they saw the awesome sight spread out before them. The company of angels that guarded the singing man was thick and all-encompassing. No bandit even had a hope of penetrating it, and when the shock melted off of their numbed minds the marauders fled for their lives, screaming and leaving behind weapons, provisions and costly treasures.

Upon the departure of the thieves' band, the darkness of the night all of a sudden flooded over the little group again. The only light was the smoldering camp fire.

All eyes were fixed on Sojourner as he stood up and looked first at Malcus, then at Seda and finally at Simay before saying, "Get some sleep; we can clean up after them in the morning."

Three open mouths and three sets of staring eyes followed the Ephesian back to his small, thread-bare tent.

* * *

**Chapter 9 Inspired by:**

"**Soldiers of the Cross" by Joe Zichterman, found on the WILDS CD "Soldiers of the Cross"**

"**Some Trust in Chariots" by Brigette Shevy, found on the WILDS CD "Holy, Holy"**

_**The Holy Bible. Psalm 20.**_ **Zondervan. 1976.**


	11. Chapter 10: For Innumerable Evils

**Chapter 10: For Innumerable Evils**

The next morning, when Simay opened the tent flap and surveyed the scene before her, she nearly fell over again. All around the camp were strewn a host of swords, armor, supplies, and other accoutrements of survival. The sun glinted off of the blades, half-buried in the dirt, sand and underbrush that surrounded the area.

Seda stalked about picking at the packs and occasionally hefting a sword she took a fancy to before choosing another one and tossing the previous choice aside. Sojourner sat on his bedroll with a scroll open on his lap acting as if nothing had happened the night before.

Simay left the tent to look for Malcus who had risen earlier to start looking through the provisions the mob had left behind last night. She soon found him confiscating some dried meat from one of the smaller packs.

She lightly tapped her husband's shoulder, and Malcus turned to see who had touched him.

"Good morning, Simay. Did you sleep well enough after… everything last night?"

"Yes, I actually slept better than I have in a long time…"

"No dreams last night?" Malcus inquired.

"None." She shook her head.

Every night since Malcus had rescued Seda and Simay from the slavers, Simay had suffered from bad dreams – until last night. Last night she had slept without even the shadow of a dream. Another thing that had not happened last night was that Diana had not spoken to her. This lack of communication disturbed Simay greatly. Surely the goddess would not hold any of last night's events against her. She had no control over anything that had happened, but the goddess was rather changeable in her moods, especially of late.

Malcus nodded and looked back down at the pack he was rummaging through.

Simay took this shift of attention as her excuse to leave, and she quietly crossed the camp and walked up behind Sojourner. At first he did not notice the young woman's presence, but soon he finished the section he was reading and became aware of the shadow that had fallen across the ground beside him.

"Hello, Simay." The Ephesian looked up at his young visitor. "It there something I can do for you?"

"No… no, nothing… I don't think." She faltered.

"Are you sure? You seem to be thinking about something every time I see you." The stranger looked at her kindly and waited for her response.

Simay looked around uncomfortably, trying desperately to find a reason not to talk to the man – dousing the fire, sanding the dishes, grooming the livestock – anything. She searched in vain. Her loyal friend and follower Seda had already seen to those chores. Simay was stuck. She finally looked back at Sojourner and very hesitantly began to reveal the truth to the man who had inexplicably saved all of their lives the night before.

"I have these dreams…" she began, then thought better about telling the man about her dreams involving her goddess, so she revealed only part of her nightly terrors, and in some ways, the piece of her thoughts she chose to reveal was the most frightening of all.

"In my dreams," she continued, "I see this man. I can never completely remember his face, but… I always see his… eyes." She looked away, as the familiar presence of Diana overshadowed her, but something, or maybe Someone, held back the familiar spirit as Simay continued in a trembling voice. "Every time I see Him, he reaches out to me, like He wants me to come to Him, but… I can't." Simay looked back at Sojourner. The look on his face coaxed her on.

"I always think I'm crazy… but just out of the corner of my eye I think I can see…" she hesitated to say it because it sounded ridiculous, but once again, the Ephesian's eyes seemed to give her strength to continue. "I see His hands, and each one has a scar – not just a small one, but an obvious one at the base of each hand… And His eyes look so familiar, but every time I try to remember where I've seen them before… my mind just clouds over… It's like someone's throwing a blanket over my eyes…"

Sojourner's face lit up at Simay's description of the Man, and then fell when she described the aftermath of seeing Him.

"You think I've lost my mind, don't you…" she said despondently.

"No! Not at all. I think you're completely sane, and I want you to know something."

"What?" Simay looked at him hopefully, not entirely sure what answer she was hoping for.

"I don't know why you can't remember who He is, but I know the Man you've seen. In fact, I've known Him for years."

Simay's face lit up when she heard this. Was it possible that she might finally know the answer to her question – the name of the One who kept coming to her night after night, and whose identity her goddess seemed so eager to expunge from her memory?

"Who is He? Please, I have to know." She pleaded.

"He is – "

"Simay!" The panicked voice shattered the moment and Simay whirled to see the speaker.

"Seda?! What's wrong?!"

"Come! Now! It's Malcus! He's collapsed." Seda gasped.

Without another word Simay picked up the hem of her garment and sprinted across the open space that separated her from her husband. Her long awaited answer lay forgotten on the tip of Sojourner's tongue.

Simay's heart pounded as she fell to her knees beside Malcus. His breathing was labored and he gripped his left arm tightly. If she had not been able to surmise it from looking at him, Malcus's face told his wife that something was terribly wrong. Simay was afraid to even touch him.

"There's only one person who can help your husband, and it's not any of us." Sojourner's voice came from behind her.

"Who?!" Simay demanded. "Whoever he is, get him to come now!"

"He's already here, Simay." Sojourner replied.

"I don't see anyone!" Simay snapped.

"But He sees you. And He sees your husband."

"Just help him!"

Sojourner nodded and as Simay watched, the big Ephesian bowed his head and began to say something,

"Withhold not thou thy tender mercies from me, O LORD:  
let thy lovingkindness and thy truth continually preserve me.

For innumerable evils have compassed me about:  
mine iniquities have taken hold upon me,  
so that I am not able to look up;  
they are more than the hairs of mine head:  
therefore, my heart faileth me.

Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me:  
O LORD, make haste to help me.

Let them be ashamed and confounded together  
that seek after my soul to destroy it;  
let them be driven backward  
and put to shame that wish me evil.

But I am poor and needy;  
yet the LORD thinketh upon me:  
thou art my help and my deliverer;  
make no tarrying, O my God."

Simay and Seda were deathly silent. Malcus's eyes fell closed and he lay still on the ground. Simay was too stunned to process completely what had just happened, but to her surprise, she could think clearly. To her terror, she realized that she could not sense Diana's presence, and she felt very alone.

Simay continued to stare at her husband, petrified that she had just lost him. She held her breath as she watched his chest lie very still. What seemed an eternity later, Malcus's chest began to rise and fall normally once again. Simay let out a sob of relief and threw her arms around her sleeping – but very alive husband.

Sojourner helped Seda and Simay move Malcus back to the tent where he slept very peacefully for most of the day. While he slept, the camp was very quiet. Simay stayed as far away from the Ephesian as she could, and Seda ignored the man as much as possible. When the younger girl looked at the stranger, fear was in her face.

Both young women had an inexplicable sense of foreboding looming in their hearts and minds. It got worse as the daylight hours passed. The closer it came to twilight, the more intense the sense of dread became.

As the day wore on, the camp became barer and barer. By the time night fell, the only thing that hadn't been packed up was the tent that Malcus slept in, Seda's bedroll, and some of Sojourner's things. The fire had a healthy blaze and shone brightly in the center of the former campsite, its light contrasting with the mood surrounding Seda and Simay.

Seda turned in fairly soon after the packing was finished, but Sojourner and Simay stayed up, sitting on opposite sides of the fire. No words passed between the two for a long while. Without warning, Sojourner looked up at Simay and broke the silence.

"The Man you have seen in your dreams - He is Yeshua HaMashiach; He is Jesus, Messiah. He is the very Son of God – the Son of Yahweh."

"The NAME!" came the shriek. "The NAME!"

Seda flew out of the darkness behind Sojourner, but when she got to within two feet of him she suddenly stopped, her face and body contorting into horrific shapes as she continued to screech her disapproval.

"You must not say the NAME! Great is Diana!"

Simay stared at her friend in horror. In her heart Simay knew exactly what – or rather who Seda's problem was and a dark chill ran through her accompanied by a sense of guilt as Simay recoiled from her friend.

Sojourner looked intently at Seda and said, "Spirit, in the name of Jesus – "

"No! Not the NAME!" Seda clamped her hands over her ears, but this did not deter Sojourner.

"In the name of Jesus, tell me your name."

Seda visibly struggled not to open her mouth, but the power of the Most High overcame the power of the foul spirit within her and the answer spewed forth, "You should remember me, servant. I am Diana of the Ephesians. And I will not leave! _He_ won't force me to leave a willing host! She has a choice!"

"Yes, she does. And so do I; I made my choice long ago. And I do remember you, spirit. I've felt your touch on my mind and seen you manipulate men, woman and even children to do your master's will. Your host is willing, but if you think that the Most High can be thwarted by you or any of your master's minions, you will be gravely disappointed."

Sojourner stared down the Spirit of Diana through the eyes of young Seda.

"Leave us, spirit. And take your host with you." Sojourner pointed authoritatively across the camp to Seda's bedroll. To Simay's surprise her friend went without a word of protest.

"Simay?!" Malcus's voice carried easily to his wife's ears and she immediately got up and went to him, happy for an excuse to leave the stranger who had given her the answer she so desperately wanted and at the same time had frightened her out of her mind.

She shook visibly as she pushed open the tent flap, entered, and knelt down beside her husband. "What is it, Malcus? How are you feeling?"

Malcus reached out and took ahold of Simay's arm, "I need to talk to Sojourner."

"No, no Malcus. Please, don't do that."

"I have to Simay!" the insistence in Malcus's eyes convinced her to go against her instincts and allow him to talk with the now-terrifying stranger.

Simay silently slipped back out of the tent and walked as slowly as she could across the now-cold ground. She stopped as far away from Sojourner as she could and maintain the ability to tell him that Malcus wanted to see him. She needn't have worried. As soon as he heard her footsteps coming toward him, the Ephesian looked up. Simay looked down and pointed at the tent where Malcus lay waiting.

Sojourner saw the pointing hand and left his vigil by the fire to go and see why he was needed elsewhere. Once he was at the entrance to the tent, Simay cautiously returned to her seat by the dwindling fire and prodded the coals back to life.

The Ephesian pushed aside the tent flap and entered quietly.

* * *

Malcus did not tell Simay what he asked Sojourner about the night after his mysterious collapse and miraculous healing, but in the days that followed that event Simay noticed changes in her husband. He would often go off by himself and come back an hour or two later with not a word of explanation. He would talk with Sojourner every night around the fire, sometimes into the night and a few times into the early morning. Once Simay even caught her husband reading one of the stranger's scrolls. And if all of the changes in Malcus weren't enough, another surprise shook Simay's ever-broadening world.

* * *

**Chapter 10 Inspired by:**  
**"Psalm 40" by Faye Lopez found on the WILDS CD "His Way Is Perfect"**  
**"Then Jesus Came" arranged by Glen Christiansen found on the ****Camp on Wheels CD "When I Think of Jesus"**  
**"Everlasting Love" by Brigette Shevy, found on the WILDS CD "You Are God Alone**

**References:**  
**_The Holy Bible; Psalm 40._ Zondervan. 1976.**


	12. Chapter 11: To This Very Land

**Chapter 11: To This Very Land**

"Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the LORD JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation." Malcus read the words carefully one more time before carefully rolling the scroll up again and packing it away in Sojourner's bag.

The Ephesian had been traveling with Malcus and his little band for three months now, and to Malcus's dismay and confusion, neither his wife nor Seda had seen fit to truly welcome Sojourner as one of the group. Another thing that deeply concerned Malcus was that, since that night that he had asked Simay to send the Ephesian to him, the relationship between him and his wife had become strained. He had thought about it over and over again and he could not understand why Simay was so distant. She seemed to have these periodic mood swings lately. She even seemed to be gaining some weight despite the nausea she kept experiencing. She talked with Seda almost every night now, but she would not take the time to talk with him, her own husband about whatever it was that was troubling her.

After this extended period of silence from Simay, Malcus was determined to find out exactly what was wrong with the young woman he had grown to love and married a little less than a year ago.

The day seemed to be moving along normally, just as the last ninety or so days had passed – silently. The tension between all of the parties of the caravan seemed to be growing for a reason unknown to Malcus. Sometimes it seemed like certain things made the tension worse – talking with Sojourner for one. Every time Malcus took some time to talk with their unwelcome guest, a dark cloud seemed to settle over both Simay and Seda. But the time that the hostility had seemed to be the worst was the one time that Seda had caught Malcus reading that one sentence out of Sojourner's scroll aloud, "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid: for the LORD JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation." The words had gripped his heart and he had felt compelled to read them aloud. The truth that rang in them had become very precious to Malcus since the night he had asked the Ephesian to tell him how he could become a follower of the God Sojourner unabashedly served and spoke of.

His run-in with Seda had been very strange. He did not understand why it had been such a problem for the young woman to hear those few words. He kept thinking about it over and over but could never come to a conclusion. He had thought about asking Sojourner several times, but every time he thought about it he became distracted with some menial task that suddenly demanded his attention. After forgetting about Seda's odd behavior one too many times, he finally gave up reminding himself to ask his new brother in the Faith his question.

Their journey was now past the half-way point and Simay was getting more and more anxious the closer they got to the great desert of Arabia. They had crossed into Galilee a few days ago and were traveling South towards Jerusalem. Seda and Simay had not wanted to stop at Zion, but Malcus had talked them into it – for the sake of finding out a little more about his past. Malcus secretly hoped that they might be able to find out more about the God he now claimed, since the Hebrew faith was the forerunner of Christianity, as he had learned from Sojourner.

There was so much that Malcus did not know about God. Sojourner was teaching him as much as he could, but there were still questions that the Ephesian could not answer for him. Even though he had left home many years ago, Malcus's Jewish heritage was still filed away in his mind. All the rituals, the symbolism, the sacrifices, the Law were a part of him. His new faith seemed to open his eyes to some of the reasons why his ancestors had practiced some of the things that they had.

"What are you thinking about, my friend?" Sojourner's words startled Malcus.

"Oh! I didn't know you were there." Malcus said.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Have you been able to talk with Simay yet? Without Seda around?"

"No…" Malcus shook his head. "Not yet. There never seems to be an opportunity to."

"The spirit that accompanies your wife and her friend is a devious one. I've met that particular servant of Satan before in Ephesus. It will not be easily deterred from its mission. When Jesus came to Earth He came to save those who were lost – including you, me, your wife, and her friend. From what I can tell, the spirit your wife has dealings with is trying desperately to blind her eyes to the truth of God. That's why Seda and Simay avoid us. The spirit they trust is afraid of our God and the salvation that He has offered to all human kind."

"How can I get that devil away from her then?!" Malcus said in frustration.

"You and I cannot do anything in and of ourselves, my brother. It is God Who must do the work, and from what I can see, God is already calling to Simay. He has reached out His hand to her. It is now up to her to accept Him."

Malcus nodded in acceptance, hoping that his dear wife would choose to accept the gift God was offering to her in exchange for the bondage and fear that the Spirit of Diana was giving her now.

"Well, we won't be sleeping in tents tonight." Sojourner said brightly, looking at something further down the road.

Malcus looked up to see the outskirts of Capernaum – bigger than he remembered it – ahead of them.

Before the day was out, the small party was housed comfortably in an inn, paid for by some of the loot from the failed bandit raid the night that Sojourner had come to them.

Malcus had made the arrangements with the innkeeper and had seized the opportunity to separate his wife and the ever-present Seda. He had paid for a small separate room for Simay and himself. Sojourner had said that he was content with sleeping in a room with several strangers and Seda had reluctantly agreed to do the same.

The group stabled the animals and shouldered their packs to take with them into the inn. The sun was sinking quickly and all of them were tired – all of them that is, except Malcus. He was wide awake in anticipation of the chance to finally find out what was going on with Simay.

Simay set her pack on the bed and took out some clothes and other personal items, but when she reached for the silver bear, Malcus caught her hand.

"Please Simay… Not tonight?" he pleaded.

She almost jerked her hand away from him, but for a brief moment the dark cloud over her mind lifted just enough for her to see the deep love in her husband's face. The weight of the past several months finally settled on her and the pressure became too much for her to hold in anymore.

She abandoned her pack and sat down hard on the bed, her face in her hands.

Malcus came to her immediately and put one arm around her small waist. Tears rolled down Simay's face as she sat with her husband for the first time in much too long.

"What is it, Simay? Please, tell me." Malcus gently pulled his wife a little closer to himself, "Whatever it is, I want to know. If you need something, I want to help you. I love you." His renewed profession of love only seemed to make Simay cry more, so he said nothing more. Instead, he sat quietly waiting for Simay to talk to him.

Many long minutes later, Malcus was rewarded for his patience when Simay looked up at him and said, "I feel like I don't know you anymore – Since the night after your… healing. There isn't a night that I don't look at you and wonder who you've become. You frighten me now, Malcus. Just like that – that Ephesian." She pronounced the last word like it was a curse. "Diana won't speak to me when you're around. What have you done to displease her so?"

Understanding dawned on Malcus. "Oh Simay…" he sighed and lightly kissed his wife's forehead. "I love you, and I would never intentionally frighten you or hurt you in any way." He nudged her chin upwards with a finger so that she was looking into his face. "I need to tell you about what happened to me three months ago – the night I talked with Sojourner."

Simay shivered despite the combined warmth of Malcus's body and the thick blanket she sat on.

"Okay." She whispered.

Malcus looked down for a moment before turning his eyes back to Simay's face.

"I asked Sojourner about his God, Simay."

His wife's eyes widened and he suspected that if she hadn't been so stunned, she would have run away from him.

"I thought – I thought you were loyal to me?" Simay said. "I thought you followed Diana."

"I did. For a while." He admitted. "But there was always something missing that I couldn't place. There was no purpose to my life. I was only helping you achieve the goals that Diana set for you. When Sojourner showed up that night at our camp and then saved all our lives and then saved mine again the very next day…" he shook his head. "I had to understand why he did it."

"He just wanted you to trust him!" Simay exclaimed tearily.

"No. No, that's not why he did it. He did it because it was right – because his God wanted him to do it. Sojourner saved us because his God cared enough to send him to us to tell all of us about the gift God sent to us – the gift of salvation through the Son He sent here to this earth, to this very land, Israel – "

"Please! Don't tell me about that man's God." Simay jerked away from her husband and fresh tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. "I cannot bear to be in His presence. He frightens me."

Malcus laid a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder and felt her flinch under his touch.

"Simay… please, let me talk about this." Simay didn't say anything, but she turned her teary eyes up toward her husband's face and she forced herself not to say "no."

Malcus took a deep breath and jumped into all the things that he and Sojourner had talked about, all the things that he had been unable or afraid to talk with his wife about before now. He talked about Jesus – even though Simay grimaced at every instance of the Name; he talked about God's love and humanity's sinfulness; he talked about the necessity for One to come to save the whole world from their sin.

Simay endured the conversation for the one simple reason that she loved Malcus more than she feared Diana – and the goddess was inexplicably absent. Even though every hair on her neck and arms stood straight up before ten minutes had passed, Simay suffered Malcus to continue baring his soul to her.

Soon something Malcus didn't understand made his skin crawl, and when he had finished talking, Simay looked away from him, her eyes veiled by the descending darkness of Diana's sudden presence. Fear of punishment for even listening to what Malcus had said made her tremble.

"What is it that you're so afraid of Simay?" he searched her eyes for an explanation, "Does this have something to do with Diana?"

"No!" the answer came too quickly and Malcus knew she was lying, but he let it go.

"Then what is it?" he asked kindly, giving her a chance to open up to him.

"It – it –" she struggled. "It's –" she shook her head. "I – I didn't know what you would say, or how you would react, so I didn't want to tell you until I… Until I had to tell you." Then she did something that she hadn't done for a very long time: she hugged her husband. And then she whispered into his ear a revelation. "We're going to have a baby."

A mix of joy and fear churned in Malcus's gut. Conflicting emotions and thoughts drew him in two different directions: sadness that his son or daughter would likely not be born into a family united by a common faith, and happiness that they would soon celebrate a new life.

All of these internal conflicts were brushed aside for the present as the joy of the moment overwhelmed every competing thought and feeling. Only the ever present sense that all would be well lingered in Malcus's mind in stark contrast to the nagging fear that was caught in the back of Simay's troubled mind and heart.


	13. Chapter 12: It's Finally Come to This

**Chapter 12: It's Finally Come to This**

After that night in Capernaum, Malcus and Simay's relationship seemed to become a little less tense. Simay still avoided her husband a lot of the time, but sometimes, when neither Seda nor Diana were there to interrupt them, the two sat and talked with one another about miscellaneous things. Malcus always hoped that Simay might let him talk about his new God with her, but to his dismay, every time he brought it up, she would stop him. This did not dissuade him of course, but in some ways it made his life harder than he had ever imagined that it could be. He could not speak freely about his most personal life-changing experience to the person who he loved most in all the world. Sometimes at night Malcus lay awake thinking – praying that Simay would accept the gift of God's salvation, but day after day she showed no signs of having given her heart to Jesus.

Malcus continued his conversations with Sojourner, and the Ephesian kept on encouraging him to never give up on Simay. No matter how hard it was for Malcus to continue to try to show his wife the love of his God, he had to try. His wife's – and very likely many other people's souls lay in the balance.

But no matter what he did, Malcus could never seem to get another opportunity to talk with his wife the way he had for that one night in the Capernaum inn.

During the next several months afterwards, Malcus was able to find work in Jerusalem and he and Simay were able to find an older house that needed some cleaning and fixing up, but that was in fairly good condition otherwise.

Sojourner's plans were not so concrete and he did not know where he should go. He was convinced that he needed to be close by, but try as he might, he could not find another place to stay within a suitable distance from Malcus and Simay's new home.

When Malcus learned of Sojourner's plans he insisted that the man live with them. The only thing he would have to do was help Malcus build an extra room onto the house and contribute to the household duties. Sojourner gladly accepted this offer and was happy to sleep on the roof of the house until his own room had been completed.

Seda was also invited to stay with them, and even though Malcus objected to the arrangement, Simay's hot displeasure over his ruling gave her the nerve to disobey him and even though he continually disputed Seda's presence, the young woman continued to reside in his house. To make the situation worse, she showed no sign of intending to leave, which made Malcus all the more unhappy.

The months seemed to pass much too quickly for Malcus and much too slowly for Simay. The remainder of her pregnancy seemed to draw on and on and both she and her husband were anxious about the impending delivery – neither knowing quite what to expect.

They needn't have worried. Because of Malcus's Jewish blood, he was accepted in the community – despite the fact that he had married outside of his race, and outside the faith of Judaism. His friends were even willing to overlook his religious murmurings about the one called Jesus – at least for a while – so when it came time for Simay to have her child the midwives did not hesitate to come. Many anxious hours passed before one of the women announced to Malcus – and Seda and Sojourner – the happy news that Simay had given birth to a healthy son without complication and that Malcus could see her soon.

* * *

When the midwife stationed at the door finally allowed him to enter, Malcus quickly slipped through the door and over to his wife's side. She held a sleeping baby boy nestled in her arms. The next thing that Malcus registered after seeing his wife and son was the fact that the room was peaceful. The darkness of Diana's presence was curiously absent again. Where on earth did that spirit go when it was not with Simay or Seda? He shivered at the thought that the spirit might not _be_ on this earth but back with its master for a while.

He forced his attention back to Simay.

Malcus stared wide-eyed at the new baby. Thoughts of the years to come swept through him like a cold whirlwind. What would this boy's life be like? He stopped himself; he couldn't think too much about what hadn't happened yet. God had a plan for his son, he knew. What that plan was he wouldn't know until God had accomplished it. He just had to trust that God would not fail to complete the work that He would soon begin in this child.

"Have you picked a name yet?" he asked Simay.

At the sound of her husband's voice she looked up. "No… I'm not sure what to name him. After all, I'm Ephesian and you're a Jew. Any name that I would choose might not be acceptable to anyone here in Jerusalem." She said a little bit sadly.

Malcus smiled at Simay. "Would you like him to have an Ephesian name or a Jewish one?"

Simay's face softened and brightened a little. "Well… Come to think of it, I don't really know of any Ephesian names that I would want to name him. I always thought he would be a girl so I thought of names for a daughter – not a son." She looked back at Malcus inviting his input.

"My… father's name was Abraham. I know that you have a version of it in Ephesus, 'Ibrahim.' Would that be a good name for him?" He quickly added with a smile, "I think it wouldn't be too strange for the local gossips."

"Ibrahim" her son's name rolled easily off her tongue – unlike the local language.

"Time to leave." The command, clearly directed at Malcus, came from the midwife that had been outside the door.

Malcus nodded to the Hebrew woman, but before he left Simay he placed a loving hand on her shoulder, looked at her and whispered "I love you."

As the door closed behind him, Sojourner and Seda crowded around him like children wanting to know everything he would tell them. It was the first time Seda had deigned to be near him since he had first met her.

"His name is Ibrahim and he's sleeping." Malcus summarized as he squeezed past the two well-meaning family friends and walked out the door of the house and into the semi-busy Jerusalem street. He needed some time to himself to think and pray.

* * *

Several hours later when Malcus returned to the house Simay was sleeping, Sojourner was chopping wood and Seda was busily cleaning the house. As soon as he walked into the building however, he felt his heart become heavy again with the sense that an unwelcome presence had returned. Diana was back from its wanderings. This time however, Malcus would not stand for the demon's presence.

"Be gone, spirit!" he shouted.

Seda looked wide-eyed at the master of the house and her eyes darkened as Malcus continued.

"There is room for only one spirit in this house and it is not you!"

"By whose authority do you banish me, puny man?" the foul rumbling voice confronted him from the mouth of Seda.

"By the name of Jesus Christ the crucified One, I command you to leave!" he pointed a commanding finger out the door that he had just walked through.

The spirit huffed and rolled Seda's eyes, but not without visible agony at the name of the Son. "You think that I can be dislodged so easily. "Think again, mortal. Your God will not let you send me from this woman." Seda's own finger pointed back at her. "I am here by _her_ consent. To send me away, you must also send her away. Or convince her to disapprove of my residence." The spirit cackled. "Your dear wife would be sorely displeased to find that you had sent her best friend away, especially now with a new son to care for in addition to her regular duties." The evil thing continued triumphantly, "And your Simay would not take kindly to you banishing her dear goddess either."

Malcus stared into Seda's possessed eyes and prayed silently, "God, I don't know what to do! This thing can't stay here – especially not with my son, but if I send Seda away… I need to know what to do."

To Malcus's disappointment, no revelation instantly dawned in his troubled heart. But just then Sojourner burst through a side door, sweat running down his face and arms, ax in hand and ready to do battle with whatever had caused the commotion he had heard several seconds earlier. One look at Seda told him exactly what was going on.

"Spirit! Trouble this man no more!" Sojourner demanded.

"I only speak the truth, former servant of Diana." The demon said sweetly, hitting the big Ephesian with the best weapon it had – his past.

Sojourner's face fell at the remembrance of his former life, but in the next moment he abandoned the memory of his past for the reality of his redemption in Jesus.

"What I was no longer matters, servant of Satan! I am washed in the blood of the perfect Lamb and I am _His_ servant now."

The demon clicked Seda's tongue at him. "Switching armies mid-war can get you killed, little man." Seda's dark eyes could have seared Sojourner's soul if it had not been for the Spirit looking back at Seda through Sojourner's eyes.

Seda's body shivered again as she looked into the Ephesian's eyes and suddenly the girl began to cower.

What the two men could not see was that the demon that had attached itself to Seda was being assailed at that very moment by two of the heavenly host, and although Seda could not see them, her possessor could. As the spirit beings did battle, Seda squealed in discomfort and pain.

When the demon that controlled Seda could not take the divine onslaught any more it fled screeching from its host saying, "You cannot forbid my return! She is willing! She is willing!"

Malcus looked at Sojourner in confusion. "What just happened?"

"The demon is not gone, my friend. It is only temporarily taken away, by God's grace. Rest assured, it will return, and probably sooner than you or I would like to think. But for now, we will have peace in this house."

Malcus nodded, still not understanding what he had witnessed, but accepting that God had been gracious and taken away the spirit that called itself Diana for a time. He prayed that its return would not be in the near future.

* * *

Malcus's prayers were answered in a way and a blissful year passed without a sign of the tormenting devil. Even events in Jerusalem seemed to be looking up when it declared its independence from Roman rule. But in that year, Seda became more and more fractious and irritable. Malcus could do and say nothing that would please her. But just as Seda became more disagreeable, Simay became more soft-hearted toward her husband. Even though the nights were long with a one year old baby it gave Malcus and Simay time without Seda around to talk with one another.

The time alone together did them much good and during that year without Diana's oppressive presence the two grew closer. But the day came when the peace was broken and another dark encounter with Seda revealed that Diana had once again returned to Malcus's household.

Simay, even with the growing appreciation and respect that she had for her husband could not seem to see that having Seda around was an undesirable thing. After all, Seda had been the first one to choose to follow Simay and her goddess. She brushed aside Malcus's concerns about Seda's now-frequent boughts of bad temper and disagreeableness saying that "it's only a passing phase," whatever that was supposed to mean.

Another year passed with more and more frequent confrontations between Seda and Malcus and sometimes between Seda and Sojourner, but on all of those occasions Simay was mysteriously absent. Not once did she chance to walk in on the spiritual stalemates. Perhaps if she had she might have seen the validity of her husband's discomfort at the continued presence of Seda in their household.

But despite the spiritual war in their home, God was gracious to Malcus and Simay and a couple of months before Ibrahim's third birthday, a girl was born into their family. Perhaps partially in deference to her friend and partially in a moment of defiance towards Malcus, Simay named the girl Seda.

In spite of little Seda's genetics, she bore the disposition of her namesake. Unlike her brother, the girl was continually discontented with everything.

Three and a half years passed this way, with the elder Seda always on edge, the younger Seda never content and Malcus feeling caught in the middle of everything. But perhaps there was some good that came out of it all. Malcus and Simay's relationship continued to strengthen as did his friendship with the mysterious Sojourner, whose real name Malcus still did not know.

Because Malcus had little peace at home, he was forced to rely on his God for it, and he found that even though his house was in constant spiritual turmoil, he could trust God to give him the peace and wisdom he needed to deal with the ever-increasing problems that he faced.

* * *

Towards the end of the year, just after his daughter's fourth birthday Malcus began to hear rumors of zealots attacking Roman soldiers, trying to prevent them from retaking now-free Israel. His fears for his family began to become more poignant when he overheard one of the other men talking to some of the nearby workers harvesting the field he was working in.

"The soldiers stationed in Syria are retaliating against the interference, destroying our food stores as they advance on Jerusalem. If you're going to get out of the city, now would be a good time to do it, before those cursed Romans get too much farther."

"The Zealots will turn them back. It's only one group of Romans anyway." Another man replied. "And we can always grow more food – especially here."

"We'll see." The first man replied.

Upon hearing this exchange Malcus's heart seemed to clench inside his chest and from then until the end of that day he prayed harder than he had ever prayed before that God would keep his family safe from whatever was coming.

Five months later, many thousands of Jews were dead – either of starvation or by the sword of the Romans.

* * *

"OPEN UP!" a fist pounded on the door of the house. Even though it was the middle of the night, Malcus threw on his clothes and was at the door in half a minute, sword at the ready.

He opened the door and was greeted by a face full of determination, strength and wild fear. The man held a bloodied sword in one hand and a brightly burning torch in the other.

"They're coming! The Romans! Get out of the city!" he trumpeted in Malcus's face before sprinting down the street to the next house.  
"It's finally come to this." Malcus thought and then whispered, "Siege…"

* * *

**Chapter 12 References:**

- **Young, Darrell G. "Focus on Jerusalem." Volume 68, Issue 1, "The Fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D." 2004. focusonjerusalemdotcom/thefallofjerusalem. **

- **Wikipedia. "Siege of Jerusalem (70)."**


	14. Chapter 13: Even in This Madness

**Chapter 13: Even in This Madness**

"Sojourner! Seda! Get up, we're leaving the city!" Malcus announced as he ran through the house knocking on each of the two doors then flying back to Simay and his two children.

By the time he was through the bedroom door Simay was up, dressed and wrapping Ibrahim up in something practical.

Little Seda wailed her displeasure, "I'm staying here!"

"No, you're not." Malcus stated. "The soldiers are coming little one. If you're here when they get here, you'll be dead." He looked his rebellious little daughter in the eye and saw her flinch.

"Okay…" she relented. "I'm coming. I guess."

"Malcus, we must bring something with us – "

"Yes, yes. I'll get some things ready, but we must leave as soon as we can. If we don't, it will mean our lives."

Simay nodded her understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Malcus left the room and hurriedly packed food, water, survival supplies and whatever money they had into several packs. He shouldered the largest one and handed another to Sojourner, now emerging from his room with a few things of his own in tow.

Seda burst from her room with terror written in her face and a small bag in one hand. Her hair and eyes were wild, but she was dressed and ready to leave, so Malcus handed her the last of the three packs.

"Simay!" Malcus called just as she came through the door with one child holding each hand and a small bag slung over her shoulders.

"We're ready." She said, looking first at Ibrahim, then at her daughter Seda, then at her husband.

Malcus nodded at each of his small band in turn before breathing deeply, offering up a prayer for their safety, and heading for the door of the house. Sojourner doused any lights that had been left burning and Seda closed all the doors and windows before following the master of the house to the door.

Malcus carefully pried open the door a crack and peaked out into the street. Torches burned in front of several houses. Screams could be heard from somewhere across the city and the shouts of soldiers, civilians, and zealots mingled to create a sound full of terror and death.

"Let's go. We should be safe at the Masada fortress. The Romans won't be able to penetrate its defenses, but we must hurry – before they get here." Malcus said in a low voice to all of his companions. Then he stepped out the door and motioned for everyone to follow him.

Simay and the children came first followed by Seda, and finally Sojourner taking up the rear and securing the house door behind him.

The quiet footsteps of the group made little sound in the poorly lit streets as the band hurried away from the impending destruction. Block after block of houses, shops, and animal corrals went by without incident. It was almost too quiet. The silence made them all more nervous. Even Ibrahim and little Seda seemed to sense the tension in the adults.

Shadows played across the ground, using the occasional torchlight from houses to jump across the street in unpredictable patterns.

"Malcus." A harsh whisper met the group leader's ear.

"What?" he whispered back in kind.

"Someone's back there." Sojourner's words made Malcus's blood run cold. "I can't see him, and it's only one person, but he's definitely there."

"Keep them safe. I'll be back." Malcus quietly put a hand on Sojourner's shoulder before dropping back behind the group to replace the Ephesian. To the stalker it likely appeared to be a simple position change, but little did the watcher know what Malcus had planned.

The group passed a particularly dark section of houses – likely abandoned – and Malcus took that opportunity to slip into a dark recess between two dwellings. The man shadowing his group passed by his hiding place, giving no indication that he realized Malcus had dropped off of his radar.

As the shadow passed, the Jew could barely make out the trappings of a Roman soldier, sword drawn and ready.

The Roman never knew what hit him. As soon as the man passed Malcus's hiding place he flew at the stalker, throwing his arm around the thick neck, squeezing off air. The Roman choked and sputtered, sending flailing limbs in Malcus's direction. One connected and sent pain shooting through his right leg. He realized he just been nicked by the wildly swinging sword.

Malcus strengthened his hold on the soldier and held on tightly. The captive man redoubled his efforts to shake his attacker. He backed Malcus into a wall, jarring him and the Jew's assassin instincts kicked in, causing him to hang on for his life – and his family and friends' lives.

Just then the sound of his daughter's fear-filled cry came to his ears along with a shout from Sojourner and a wrathful yell from Seda, then came the sound of swords clashing up ahead.

Malcus quickly subdued the Roman, letting him slump against the wall, unconscious. For a moment, he looked at the man, thinking that perhaps he should run him through with his sword. But then he shook his head. He couldn't bring himself to kill the Roman – not without a reason – but he did snatch up the man's sword before running as fast as he could down the street towards his friends and family.

As he drew nearer, he saw that the band had been attacked by three more soldiers. Seda was handling one of them while Sojourner took on the other two. Seeing an opening, Malcus flew into the fight, tossed Seda the extra sword he had taken from the unconscious Roman and struck at one of the two soldiers attacking the Ephesian man.

Malcus's sword struck home and the Roman roared in pain and frustration that he had been so easily taken by surprise. A deep gash now marred the soldier's leg and he turned from Sojourner to concentrate his efforts on Malcus. Each man struck over and over with little success. Malcus's leg began to ache from the graze he had received earlier from the first soldier. Then, to Malcus's relief, the man he now fought began to show fatigue – his stamina waning due to his own leg injury, much more severe than Malcus's.

The Jew saw an opening in the Roman's guard and took his opportunity, striking the Roman right through the heart. It pained him to do it, but he had no other choice this time. The other man was dead before his body hit the ground.

Now lacking an opponent, Malcus ran to fight at Seda's side, thinking that she might need some help only to discover that Seda had already dispatched her foe and was now hacking at Sojourner's.

Badly outnumbered, the last Roman continued to fight bravely, but Seda, Malcus and Sojourner prevailed and sent the third soldier to a swift death.

"We must leave! Now! There are more coming. I can hear them." Sojourner insisted.

"I know." Malcus said just before he felt his wife's fearful embrace, "Simay! Are you alright? Ibrahim and Seda –"

"They're fine." Her anxious whisper came. Then Malcus saw his children, still each clasping one of their mother's hands. Fear was in their eyes, but not a scratch was on them, thanks be to God.

Malcus scooped up Ibrahim – the larger of the two children and Simay, following his example picked up Seda.

"We have to run. It's the only way we'll ever get out of here alive." He announced, receiving instantaneous, unanimous agreement.

Malcus again took the lead and set a good pace – not too fast, but fast enough to give them a good chance of escaping the oncoming soldiers. He was followed by Seda, then Simay and their daughter, shadowed closely by Sojourner, keeping a watchful eye out for more trouble.

They ran on and on for what seemed like hours to them all, but what was in reality only twenty or thirty minutes. Simay began to tire with the added weight of carrying her daughter and Sojourner took the girl, instructing her to hold onto his neck and not let go – an order she readily obeyed.

No more Romans appeared until they had almost reached the edge of the city. From their position, they could see the distant gate of the city and beyond that they glimpsed the distant refuge of Masada towering above the ground.

One moment the way was clear. The next they were surrounded by the enemy. At least ten Romans had them hemmed in. Even with everyone wielding a sword except the two children, the odds were worse than two to one in the soldiers' favor. But in spite of the bad odds, Malcus, Sojourner and Seda all drew a sword. Sojourner handed Simay his sword – smaller and lighter than the broadswords they had taken from the soldiers they had battled earlier – and hefted one of the captured Roman blades.

The four adults made a protective shield around the two children and told them to stay inside the circle. Ibrahim and little Seda were too afraid to disobey.

"Jewish dogs!"

"Pigs!" Came the insults.

"Those children you call 'zealots' are all dead. Just like you're about to be." Said another Roman, assuming that the band they faced were all Jews.

"We are not all Israeli." Sojourner replied in his native tongue.

"What'd he say?" one soldier looked questioningly at another.

"Who cares? He's just trying to throw us off. They'd have been out of this place a while ago if they weren't Jews." He thought for a second and then added, "or Jewish sympathizers. Just kill them. We'll find out after they're dead."

There was no further chatter from the soldiers, only cold, calculating swordplay.

Adrenaline fueled the four refugees. If the Romans broke through their defenses, there would be no hope for the two children. They would either be killed or sold into slavery, so the four fought hard, taking down three of the ten attackers fairly quickly.

"Where's Seda?" came Malcus's question when he suddenly realized that only three swords continued to fight the soldiers.

"She's gone!" Simay's cry came from behind him. "Close the circle –" Simay's scream pierced Malcus's soul and he chanced a look towards his wife, fearing that she had been hit. What he saw was worse. Only his son stood in the midst of the circle. His daughter Seda was also gone.

He knew in his heart that his wife's best friend had betrayed them. She had kidnapped their daughter, and if she had taken the girl for the purpose he supposed – he prayed he was wrong.

Just then Malcus whirled around, impaling another Roman with his broadsword just as Simay, in a fury of maternal rage cut down first one, then two soldiers, leaving only four more, two of which were dispatched by Sojourner.

The final two soldiers proved harder to bring down. One fought, not with a sword, but with two long silver knives. He was the more masterful of the two. Sojourner took him on, striking, parrying, dodging, and striking again, in an elegant, deadly dance, from which only one would emerge alive.

While the Ephesian fought the knife-wielder, Malcus and Simay joined forces against the less skilled Roman. Simay showed remarkable reasoning capabilities even in her anger at the kidnapping of her daughter. She and her husband created the perfect deadly force. Even though the Roman was well-versed in the art of fighting, the couple outwitted him over and over until Simay was finally able to strike the fatal blow, which she gave with a little bit too much enjoyment.

Sojourner still battled the other soldier, swatting aside jab after jab of the twin blades. The Ephesian had been nicked a few times, none serious, and he had inflicted a few good scrapes on his opponent too.

Now all three remaining adults descended on the lone enemy. Had he been an Ephesian he might have run from his imminent demise, but Romans did not run, even from death, and he gave the three refugees the fight of their life.

Finally, after many costly minutes of fighting the knife master, he met his death at the trio's hand.

When the immediate threat was over, Simay hugged her husband and cried for her lost daughter.

"We have to find her, Malcus." She sobbed. "She can't be far."

"Simay…" Malcus held her tightly, "we'll never find her. The best thing we can do for her now is pray that God will take care of her."

"God." Simay huffed. "That's all you ever talk about." she shoved him away and continued weeping as she went to her one remaining child and hugged him tightly.

Malcus tried to console her again only to be shaken off for a second time.

"Lord, I don't know what to do right now. Protect my daughter as only You can, and help us to find her again, even in this madness." Malcus prayed silently.

He looked up to see Sojourner looking further down the path, staring at distant Masada – their only hope for safety. They had to keep going; they had to get to the mountain. Maybe he and Sojourner could leave Simay and Ibrahim there and come back for little Seda after that.

He presented his solution to Simay and received a reluctant agreement. They would go to Masada and return later. It was the best they could do under the circumstances.

"After all," Malcus thought a little sadistically, "if my daughter is with her namesake, and she's been taken for the reason I think she has, Seda will see that no immediate harm comes to her."

The group, now less two quickly continued on their way out of the city. They were in the shadow of the wall when they passed one last dark street.

By some miracle, Malcus heard the faintest whisper of air – a whisper that should not have been there. His instincts sent him flying toward his wife, shielding her from whatever was whistling her way. His quick reflexes and selfless love saved Simay, but at a great cost.

Malcus felt the blade of a knife sink into the back of his shoulder, missing the pack that had slipped to one side on his back and he grunted at the blade's impact. The pain flashed through him as he stood facing his wife.

Diana's outraged scream emanating from the elder Seda's lips shook them all. The demon cursed God and immediately shook with terror at the thought of the consequences for such words. No divine punishment came for the moment and the spirit thought it wise to leave the scene before anymore ill befell its plans. Unbeknownst to Simay, Diana had been plotting her demise. The little Ephesian girl had become too weak-willed. She was suppose to die – but that fool Malcus had gotten in the way. Seda hissed with rage as she fled.

Sojourner was instantly at his friend's side. Malcus had sunk to his knees and Simay was crying hysterically. The man she had shaken off less than an hour ago was now the dearest person in the world to her. As his life's blood left him, Malcus spoke to his wife and then to his friend – his brother in the faith.

"I love you, Simay. Whatever happens to you from this day onward, know that. And know that God loves you too." He smiled at her and then turned to look at the Ephesian man. "Isk - Sojourner. Look after her. And my son and daughter."

"I will, brother." Sojourner said, and he knelt beside his dying friend as Malcus took his last breath in this world and his first in Heaven.

"Malcus!" Simay shook her husband's lifeless body. "Malcus!" the shock of his sudden death shook Simay to the very core of her being. He had saved her. That blade had clearly been meant to end her life, not his. And her best friend – her betrayer – Seda had done this. "How could she?!" Simay cried out before breaking down into inconsolable weeping. Even Ibrahim in his childlike way tried to comfort his mother, but he could do nothing for her. Her grief went far deeper than either Sojourner or Ibrahim could ever hope to heal.

She had trusted someone who had ripped her family apart and she had let that same person come between her and the one person who loved her the most – the one who had just died for her – her husband. Her heart broke.

"We cannot stay here." Sojourner put a gentle hand on the new widow's shoulder. "We have to leave the city, and we have to go now."

"No!" Simay said through her tears.

"I have been charged with yours and your children's safety. I will not be forced into breaking that confidence." He said with such conviction that Simay stood to follow him. Sojourner took a moment to retrieve the pack that now lay with Malcus's body. He shouldered the extra burden and with not a few tears led Simay and Ibrahim out of Zion.

* * *

When the grief-filled threesome came nearer to Masada, they were greeted with the sight of many others, like themselves, seeking refuge inside the great rock walls of the mountain. The mob pressed in tightly around them.

The people – those that were able – made their way as quickly as possible up the steep path and filed into the fortress. The small path was overloaded with bodies vying for a position in line. The loose order was soon shattered when yet another disaster befell Simay and her group. More enemy soldiers seemed to appear out of nowhere and began harassing the fleeing Jews. Many of the men in the group of refugees slipped back through the crowd, down the side of the mountain and kept back the soldiers as the rest of the people thundered up the path and into the mountain.

In the chaos, Simay lost her hold on her son's hand. She tried in vain to find him again, all the while calling out to him, but the din of the panicking crowd drowned out her one small voice. She hoped that her seven year-old son would find his way to her once he had gotten into Masada – if he even made it up the mountain alone… The thought hurt to contemplate.

Feeling completely powerless and drained Simay moved with the flow of the crowd which spilled into the mountain until everyone who had come for refuge was inside. Many others were calling the names of family members or friends, trying to find them. Some succeeded, but just as many failed. The men who had bought their families and friends time ran up the mountain path to join them, still pursued by a handful of determined Romans.

As Simay's tired feet carried her across the open space inside the fortress, she could think of only one place to turn. Diana would help her. She had to. Within one day Simay had lost her entire family and her best friend. In vain, Simay continued to look everywhere she could for her son, but as hard as she tried, she could never find him. Only the stranger Sojourner remained, and he had not yet returned from the skirmish with the soldiers.

"Oh, Diana!" Simay cried out in her heart. "I need your help."

The young woman wept as she found a relatively private place to collapse. When she had fallen to her knees she reached into the small bag that she had brought with her. Her hand groped around inside the bag. A look of sick terror fell across Simay's face and an icy fist gripped her heart. She thought she might lose what little food she had taken in that day. The silver statue was gone. Simay tried over and over again to find the familiar presence of Diana. Her efforts were entirely fruitless. The spirit had gone.

This one last loss broke Simay completely. Her husband was dead, her children lost; she was homeless, and friendless. She knew in her heart that the goddess who had promised to preserve her and her descendants' lives had again broken her promise. Simay knew that she had been a fool to believe the presence that called itself Diana. It had broken its promise before. Why hadn't she realized that if it broke its promise once with no remorse that it would likely not hesitate to do so again? The cruelty of the betrayal crushed her and despair and emptiness engulfed her.


	15. Chapter 14: No Coincidence

**Chapter 14: No Coincidence**

"Where's Ibrahim?" came the question as Sojourner trotted over to Simay's little claim some time later.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

"He – he was lost… I couldn't hold onto him. Too many people." She wept.

"He'll turn up." Sojourner attempted to console her. "There are many families with children here. If he can't find us, he'll find one of them. He'll be fine."

"I hope so..." Simay sniffed. "If he even made it into the fortress."

"We checked the trail thoroughly. If we found anyone, we brought them in with us. That's why it took so long for everyone to get back after we made sure the Romans wouldn't be able to get in. Most likely one of the other men found him and brought him in if he didn't get in with the crowd."

With that, Sojourner let the two packs – miraculously still in his possession – slide from his back and onto the ground beside Simay. He then took a seat on the other side of the baggage. He sat there silently for a long time, letting Simay try to deal with her upset life by herself.

After a while he started digging through the packs to see what they had with them and what Seda had run off with. Thankfully they had the pack with the money in it as well as a lot of the food that Malcus had hurriedly stuffed in. He picked out something he thought Simay might be tempted to eat, though he doubted she was in the mood to.

He handed her some food anyway. She looked at it blankly for a moment, then set it in her lap, ignoring the offering. Sojourner ate silently, staring up at the darkening sky. Had it really been almost an entire day since they left for Masada?

Stars began to peek out from behind the scarce clouds. Small campfires dotted the interior of the fortress. The sounds of families and individuals alike seemed to be magnified by the crisp night air. Sojourner took a cleansing breath and prayed silently.

"My Father. My Lord. I thank You for bringing Simay and I through Jerusalem safely. I don't pretend to know why You have taken Malcus, my brother – my friend," tears stained the big Ephesian's brown face, "but I know You will bring about good from his death. I'm only sorry he couldn't be here now…" Sojourner looked around, seeing the families that had escaped the city intact. "Help me, Father. Help me to know where to go from here. And watch over little Seda, wherever she may be."

He looked back to Simay, still in her partial stupor, and decided it was safe to leave her for a bit while he scoured the fortress for her son Ibrahim.

"If he's here, please help me find him." He prayed softly as he set off on his search.

A couple of hours and many questions later he returned to Simay empty-handed and no closer to finding the boy than before. He didn't bother to tell Simay what he had done. She didn't need to hear about anything else going wrong right now. And it was always possible that he had missed the boy. One child in hundreds was easy to overlook. He still held out hope that the boy was alive somewhere and in good hands. "May it be so." He prayed.

The night wore on. Simay did not sleep. She only sat there, eyes glassy and distant. Sojourner did not feel the need to sleep either. His heart was heavy for the sad young woman. She had lost everything – almost literally. No one was left for her except him, a stranger whom she feared. Perhaps now that the terrible spirit had left with Seda as its pawn Simay would decide he was not so bad after all.

Simay suddenly shook herself out of her stupor and realized that Sojourner was staring at her.

"What?" she said harshly.

He could not see her face. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"How should I be?" she snapped back.

"I don't know." Sojourner replied, still using the same soft tone.

Simay didn't reply to that for a moment, then she turned to face him. She hugged her knees to her chest, took a deep breath and looked straight up into the canopy of twinkling lights above her. It seemed to Sojourner that her face might be just a little bit more open than it had been when he had first returned from fending off the Romans.

He began to think that she would never say anything else to him when she suddenly looked straight into his eyes and asked him the question he had been anticipating since he first met her.

"Who are you?"

He waited a moment before answering, thinking about what the best way to tell her would be.

"Did you ever meet any of the people your mother worked with?"

"No…" she said, confused. "No one was supposed to know about me. When they found out…" The young woman let her chin fall to her chest and more tears fell from her still-wet eyes.

"I know. It costed her her life."

Simay jerked her head up, completely caught off guard. The next instant she was in the Ephesian's face with a small belt-knife pointed at his throat.

"How do you know that?!" she hissed

His brown eyes seemed to look into her soul.

"I was there."

"What?!" She nearly screeched it before she managed to stifle her voice. As it was, the people nearest them looked at her strangely, but none of them intervened. "You what?!" she repeated in a lower volume.

"I was with your mother the night she was executed." He pushed Simay's knife hand away from his throat, "My name is İskender."

Simay backed away from the Ephesian, more confused now than she had been before.

"How…? Why…?" she struggled to form her thoughts.

"I was once a servant in the great Temple of Artemis Diana, but I committed an unpardonable sin."

"What?" she managed.

"I too broke my vows to Diana. I became a follower of Jesus."

Simay wanted to run away and hide somewhere where no one could ever find her again. The guilt of that terrible night at the temple came crashing down on her again. It was so heavy that she felt as if someone had laid a pile of bricks on her shoulders. It was so terrible that she was actually glad that her husband and children were not here to see the awfulness of it.

"You feel responsible for it."

"Yes!" she sobbed. "I killed her just as much as that executioner did."

"Perhaps…" he granted, "But God gave her new life that night."

"That's not possible!"

"Nothing is impossible with God, Simay."

"I don't understand!"

"Do you want to understand?"

Simay sat on the ground; many years of memories ran through her mind and settled in her heart. She remembered the tent-maker and his wife, the night she had slept alone in the house after betraying her mother, being taken captive by the slavers, meeting the man sitting in front of her, her husband's last selfless act. The final memory that washed over her was the one that she had desperately tried to remember for years – the one that she now realized Diana had always squelched. She remembered the two scarred hands that had reached out to her in her dreams time after time. With that memory also came the realization that the reason that the hands had always been reaching out to her was because there was someone in this wretched world who cared – someone who wanted her.

In that moment everything came together. The things that Malcus had told her since the day that he had chosen to follow Sojourner – İskender's – God instead of Diana. She realized that her husband had told her the truth. There _was_ another choice besides living beneath Diana's fist of iron.

"I do want to understand." Simay finally said.

"Then I'll tell you." İskender smiled.

For the next hour the man carefully relayed to Simay the truths that he had come to know many years ago. He told her how God had sent a Redeemer – Jesus; how that Redeemer had come as the final blood Sacrifice and Substitute; how God now offered salvation from sin and eternal death through that Redeemer. "Repent and believe" were the words he used.

"Your mother's physical life was taken from her, but before she died she said something to me I will always remember, 'I always asked in my heart why I should exchange a living goddess for a dead man. But that is not the right question, is it? What I should have asked is, "why shouldn't I exchange a treacherous goddess for a living God?"'"

Simay's eyes widened as she realized what İskender had said. Her mother, before she died, had seen what Diana was – a treacherous spirit. That realization had driven her to cry out to God – just as it was driving Simay to do the same now – to turn from relying on herself, or Diana, and to that Redeemer.

The only words that escaped Simay's mouth were, "I believe it – all of it!" She couldn't say any more. The knowledge that she now had a master who loved, instead of one who merely used and then discarded her, was overwhelming and for the first time in a very long time she laughed with joy.

The neighbors who were still awake looked quizzically at the pair of foreigners again, shrugged their shoulders and ignored the strange behavior.

* * *

After that Simay slept soundly until well into the next morning. No dreams plagued her; no fears interrupted her rest; no demons tormented her heart. Sweet forgiveness gave her peace that she had never known before.

When she finally awoke Simay found İskender – who she still thought of as Sojourner – reading one of his scrolls that he had inexplicably been able to hold onto through the past day and night's events. "Perhaps the hand of God kept it safe for him," she thought.

"Soj – İskender?" she sat down beside him.

"It doesn't matter which name you use." He chuckled.

"Oh. Okay."

"What is it?" he asked.

"There's one thing I don't understand. How did you get out of prison? No one escapes the temple dungeon." She paused, "But somehow you did."

"I was released." He answered simply.

"Surely not by the guards."

"No. Not by any human hand." He raised his eyes to the bright morning sky.

Simay looked at him in confusion. "How can that be?"

"I can't explain it. There _is_ no explanation." He shook his head. "The night after your mother was taken away, mere hours before my own scheduled death, I awoke to the sound of the lock on the cell door clicking open. I looked up to see why the guards had come for me early. No one was there. Just quiet darkness.

"I pushed open the door, thinking that someone had made a mistake. When no one stopped me, I kept walking until I had made it out of that miserable death house. I never saw one person in the temple that night." He looked back down at his scroll before continuing. "I knew God had let me out of that cell, and I made a promise to Him." He looked at the young woman sitting beside him. "That promise was to find you – to tell you everything."

The girl stared at him then ventured a cautious, "Why…?"

The Ephesian man smiled, "There are no accidents in God's plans. Always remember that. It was no coincidence that I was there the night your mother died. Just like it was no coincidence that I found your group that night the marauders attacked – or tried to. God puts people where they need to be when they need to be there. But as for why I wanted to find you, your mother loved you. I knew that by the way she talked about you before she knew I was there. I also knew that if she could have, she would have told you herself about what happened to her that night. But since she couldn't, and I was the only other person who could, I set out to tell you. I just knew in my heart that I had to. I know that may not make much sense to you right now, but you'll understand some day."

"You're right… I don't understand." She thought for a moment then continued, "It took you years. You could have given up; you didn't even know my name, where I was going, who I was with. You're a very persistent person, İskender."

"I serve my Saviour. When He gives me something to do, I do it. The journey He took me on during those years of searching brought me to many places and through many trials. I wouldn't trade it for anything." He started to roll up his scroll. "I acquired this and several others on one of my many adventures." He indicated the parchment. "They were a gift."

"Would you teach me to read it?" she asked

"Of course." He readily agreed.

"Malcus tried to teach me to read his language once, but I never could do it. I have a hard enough time speaking it, much less reading it, but I _want_ to learn it now. Maybe, with God's help, that will make the difference."

* * *

**Chapters 13 & 14 were inspired by:**

- **"Blessed Be the Lord" by Brigette Shevy, found on the WILDS CD "God Meant It for Good"**

- **"Christ, Thine All in All" by John B. Monsell and Asenath Cadavos arranged by Mac Lynch, found on the WILDS CD "God Meant It for Good"**

- **"Wonderful Words of Life" by Philip P. Bliss and James Koerts, found on the WILDS CD "God Meant It for Good"**

- **"Thanksgiving in My Heart" by Thomas Kelly and Faye Lopez, found on the WILDS CD "God Meant It for Good"**


	16. Intermission 2

**Intermission**

"What!?" came the irritated exclamation as someone tapped softly on Desslok's door, forcing him to immediately shut down the hologram – again.

"Sir?" Masterson's immature baritone voice sounded muffled.

Breathing a sigh of temporary relief, Desslok quickly pocketed the small capsule.

"Come in." he said flatly, some of his irritation abated.

His friend slipped into the room quietly. The door slid closed after him almost soundlessly.

"What is it, Masterson?"

"It's the middle of the night, sir."

Desslok shook his head. Would he never break Masterson of his "sir" or the ever-increasing "sire" habit? "Probably not." He thought, and let the hint of a smile show then quickly hid it again as he turned to Masterson.

"I know what time it is."

"Then what time is it?" Masterson called his bluff.

Desslok just looked at him the way he usually did when he had been caught lying. And unfortunately – or fortunately, he still wasn't sure which – Masterson was quite good at catching him.

"I thought not."

"What time is it?" the prince relented.

"Three hours until dawn."

Had it really been that long since he'd begun that bizarre history again?

"And…?" the prince failed to see the relevance of the lateness of the hour.

"And if you don't sleep tonight – "

"If I don't sleep tonight it will be no different than any other night I haven't slept."

"Perhaps." Masterson nodded. "But you've never had my father to answer to after a sleepless night either."

Desslok rolled his eyes and said, "You're right. I haven't. But, in my defense, I could take a history exam in my sleep. Why should I concern myself?"

Masterson smiled. "I know you could, my friend. One test is not what I'm most concerned about."

"I didn't think so. Why are you really here then?"

"I want to know what's going on, Desslok."

The personal address caught the prince's attention immediately.

Masterson saw the spark in the prince's eyes and knew his intuition had not led him wrong.

"You're hiding something. What is it?"

Desslok remained stubbornly silent.

"I know she left you something."

The prince's guarded face faltered.

"How did you find out?" Desslok's eyes narrowed.

Masterson dreaded his friend's response. "She told me." He then quickly added, "She didn't tell me what it was, just that she had left it for you… in the even of… her death."

Desslok rose and turned his back to the other youth. Then, to Masterson's utter amazement, every muscle on his friend's back tensed, relaxed and tensed again. Not one sound came from the prince, but the fact that this son of royalty stood before him weeping touched his heart.

Masterson took a careful step towards the prince. When he did not object Masterson took another, and then another until he was standing beside his friend. Unsure of what else he could do, Masterson gripped the prince's shoulder just hard enough to tell this very sad young man that he still had one friend he could rely on.

Some moments later the prince finally gathered his courage and looked at Masterson.

"Why didn't she tell me?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know." Masterson replied. "Perhaps she didn't think you were ready to know whatever it was she wanted to tell you."

Desslok nodded. "Perhaps."

"Do you know why you found that letter when you did?"

"You?"

"Me." Masterson confirmed. "She entrusted it to me – an eight year old boy. Why she chose me, I can only guess. When she left on that last mission, two years later she gave me another charge to keep."

"She told you to watch my back, didn't she." It was more statement than question.

"She did, sir. And I will honor her wish for as long as I live."

Desslok nodded. "So be it then. If I'm stuck with you, there's something you need to see."

"I'm not sleeping tonight either, am I?" Masterson asked.

"No. You're not." Desslok said as he carefully slid the message capsule from his pocket and laid it in Masterson's hand.

* * *

Admiral Talan looked up from his lectern as he heard the door opening and two sets of footsteps entering the room. He looked up and an interesting sight met his gaze.

Two teenagers – one was his son, the other might as well have been his son – took their positions at the consoles, ready to take the test. Masterson looked like he hadn't slept. The prince appeared to be a little better off. The dark circles under his eyes were much less pronounced than Masterson's. Perhaps because young Desslok had had more experience with sleepless nights – too much on his mind.

Both young men were looking at him, waiting for the word to begin.

The Admiral tapped a few icons on the computer screen set into the face of the lectern, setting the appropriate permissions for the test.

His students continued to stand quietly. Masterson looked as if he would fall asleep on his feet.

Raymond pushed one final button then looked up.

"Would anyone like some kave?"

* * *

Two hours, a hundred questions and two pots of the caffeine-loaded beverage later, Admiral Talan released his charges for the day with a reminder to be prepared for the last exam tomorrow – grammar and language.

To Raymond's amusement, the prince looked at Masterson with a pained expression only to receive a grin in return. This, of course earned Masterson a glower from Desslok. The prince was a born orator, but he had only passable finesse with the written word.

"I would suggest you two prepare for tomorrow."

With that encouragement the two teenagers left.

Masterson's eyelids began drooping; his caffeine high was starting to wear off, but as they passed the huge window that looked out on the Temple, the sight gripped the admiral's son. No matter how often Masterson saw the Temple – the monument to his God – the one thought that always came to him was that his people had become lost in tradition. If they would only open their eyes and understand the truth behind the rituals, the reality of the symbols they ignorantly used in their worship, that his homeworld – perhaps even the entire galaxy – would be different.

"Looking down on the traditions of the ancestors again?" Desslok prodded.

"Merely thinking, sir?"

"About..?"

"The way it could have been – the way it might still be someday." Masterson said.

"The Gamilon people are quite attached to their heritage – even though we do not even know where we originally came from. The oldest manuscripts that the Temple has are less than to two thousand years old. No one really knows where we got them in the first place; for all we know, they're not even real." The cynicism in the prince's voice was not lost to Masterson.

Desslok had never truly believed in anything – except perhaps himself. His father's empty semi-adherence to the Torah had disgusted him. His mother's faith in the one she called "Yeshua ha Mashiach" seemed too much like a faith for the weak, the downtrodden of the world. What made things worse was the fact that the two faiths seemed to agree on some things, but violently disagree on other things. Both claimed to serve the same God, but one faith claimed Him to be one, the other claimed Him to be three. None of it made any sense to the prince so he chose to disregard it all. At times he gave lip-service to laws of the Torah – once in a while he even abided by them but only when it was to his advantage.

Masterson let himself fall into deep thought as he and the prince left their vantage point and continued, as they had done for years, on their walk back to their rooms.

Last night, when Desslok had handed him that small message capsule it had powered up. The queen's image had startled Masterson. What had shocked him even more was that Queen Talonka had left him a message as well. Somehow she had known that her son would trust him enough to show him this secret.

The portion of the story that the former queen had related was both amazing and confusing. The words of the Shlichim – the Apostles – had come to this world through unbelievable circumstances. That those words had reached Gamilon at all had convinced many of the validity of them. Exactly where those words had come from… no one had ever been able to find out.

The places that Queen Talonka had mentioned in her history sounded foreign to Masterson's ears, but something nagged at him. Two names, "Jerusalem" and "Israel." Were they translated, transliterated? Neither? Something similar to those two names were found a multitude of times throughout the Torah, "Yerushalaim," and "Yisrael" but no one had ever been able to find out where those two places were. The country called "Yisrael" was on no map, ancient or modern, from any known world – from Gamilon to Bemera. The city of Yerushalaim was even more invisible. The Christians of his world had long proclaimed that if they could find Yerushalaim, they would have found their planet of origin – the planet where Elohim breathed life into the first being – the adam* – and fashioned his eesha* to stand at his side.

Both the followers of the Torah and the Christians longed to find Yisrael, their true home, but search after search had returned empty-handed. Even now another group of ships was under way, this time going beyond known space, out into the void to continue the search.

Legend had it that the first ones to settle this world had known the location of their ancestral home, but an unrecorded disaster had wiped out all records they had brought with them – and most of the brave souls who had dared pioneer the planet. Only the copies of the Torah along with the Arown* and its Kapporeth* had survived.

The lights in the hallway went out.

"Perimeter breach. Security has been compromised." The computer-generated female voice filtered through the palace accompanied by an alarm.

Almost immediately the prince whisked out a palm-sized computer, hacked into the data stream going out to the guard's HUD* units and disappeared in a flash of gray and black back down the semi-darkened hallway towards the palace entrance.

Masterson reacted a half a second later, tearing after Desslok and leaving his grogginess far behind.

The sight that met their eyes when the two young men reached the ornate entrance struck them both. They had outstripped all but two or three of the palace guards to the scene. Masterson, not knowing what information the prince had seen, had no idea what to expect, but when he saw it he understood Desslok's haste.

The old-fashioned gray cobblestones that covered the center of the courtyard amplified the sounds of the struggle. The guards normally stationed at the entrance lay dead not far from the colossal doors, their weapons still holstered.

The guards who had beaten Desslok and Masterson to the entrance were locked in hand-to-hand combat with six militants – all wearing silver amulets. A seventh intruder was on his knees behind the group, holding his talisman to the sky, chanting "Malha* Guardiana!"

Another person joined the fray, expertly taking down two of the Guardiana followers almost instantly. Desslok recognized the fighting style of his brother Deun as the crown prince broke through the fighting men and seized the chanting zealot, securing one arm around the man's throat to silence him and digging the tip of his knife into the man's back.

The hairs on Masterson's neck stood straight up as an almost tangible dark chill ran through the courtyard. He was so horrified by what had almost happened that he nearly yelped in surprise when a gloved fist shot past his face and connected solidly with an eighth zealot's forehead.

"You should watch your own back more often." Desslok said quietly.

"Thank you, sir." Masterson nodded, still faintly sensing the quickly dissipating darkness that had unsettled him.

"We could have all been dead." The prince hissed. "Why do they hate us so much?"

"Perhaps we may yet know the answer to that." Masterson said as quickly and quietly as he could to avoid the ears of the guards now streaming into the courtyard.

The last one to get there was Leader Deun himself, dark eyes blazing and assault rifle in hand.

"Did they have enough time?!" the ruler demanded of the squad commander.

"No, Sire. Your son saw to that."

Deun looked approvingly at his elder son, now handing the captured man off to a palace guard.

"How did they get through?" the Leader continued.

"We don't know, Leader. No one saw them. No one heard them. We suspect ma'al.*"

"Interrogate every guard, every officer, every servant in this palace. I want to know who arranged for them to get in."

"Yes, Leader." The commander dipped his head in respect before sending a handful of his men with the cuffed Guardiana followers to a holding cell within the palace then dispatching the rest of the guards to carry out his ruler's wishes.

Masterson knew Leader Deun had seen them standing here, just outside the palace entrance, but the man never acknowledged their presence. He steadfastly avoided looking their direction from the first moment he entered the courtyard until he left.

Not long after the guards, young Deun, and Desslok's father made their exits Masterson and the prince began their trek back to their respective living areas.

Something, perhaps because of an in born instinct of distrust, stuck in the back of Desslok's mind about the scene they had just witnessed. He had the feeling that he had missed something important and it unnerved him.

* * *

When the two finally reached their rooms after their unplanned detour Masterson quickly kicked off his shoes and was asleep before his body hit the bed. Desslok, on the other hand, upon locking his door behind him, stood silently by the enormous window that overlooked the city and part of the Temple.

With a few words, he turned the lights off and gazed out over his homeworld's capitol. The morning light made every vibrant color stand out. This picture of elegance that was Rapha'owr*, despite its beauty, was thick with tension. The Guardiana followers had torn the city apart with their sedition. It was well-known that those demonic militants would love to see the entire royal family dead. What was not so well-known was the reason why they were so intent upon that goal. The royal family had never done anything to them...

"Or have we…?" a light went on in the prince's head and within moments he was beating on the Talans' door.

Naomi, Masterson's mother answered the knock. "What can we do for you, Desslok?" she asked in her pleasant voice.

"I need to speak to Masterson."

"If you can wake him up, you can speak with him for as long as you wish." She smiled.

"Thank you." The prince said as he slipped through the door, passed the main living area and marched purposefully up to Masterson's door, fist ready to pound on the metal.

The instant before he would have knocked, the door hissed open. Masterson had left it unlocked and on a motion sensor. He shook his head. He would have to speak to his friend about his lax security habits.

"Talan! Get up!" the prince barked.

The sharp sound only partially roused Masterson and a light snore escaped him.

Desslok stood in Masterson's doorway, arms folded, eyes determined. "Don't make me drag you out."

When Masterson still didn't rise, he almost cursed, but just before he let the word escape his lips he remembered the last time he had used such language in the Talan residence. It had been severely frowned upon. Instead of saying anything more, the prince stepped purposefully over to the bed, opting to grab an arm instead of a bare foot, and made good on his threat to drag Masterson out of bed. The sleeping teenager did not even stir this time. Seeing no other option, the prince proceeded to drag Masterson across the room, through the living area and out the front door.

"Bring him back, please." Desslok heard Admiral Talan's voice.

"I will, Admiral."

After the door closed Raymond Talan let loose a hearty laugh.

* * *

Masterson did not completely stir until something cold and wet came crashing down over his head.

"What's wrong?" Masterson's glazed eyes popped open in response to shock of the ice water. The first thing that registered in his mind was that his feet were wet. Then he realized that he was no longer in his own room.

"No, I didn't happen to grab your shoes on the way out." The prince stated absently. "If you had been awake you could have gotten them yourself."

Masterson took the light rebuke with the hint of a smile. "Never a moment's rest." He thought.

Deciding to abandon the subject of his hijacking, Masterson asked more seriously, "What is it, sir?"

"I have a theory, Masterson. The problem is that there's only one place that I can confirm it. I doubt anyone else would admit the truth of the situation – except the zealots themselves, and I don't relish getting myself killed to find out if I'm right or not."

"The Guardiana followers, sir? What do you think we've done to them?"

"Not you, Masterson. Not you or anyone else besides the royal family."

"What do you think _you've_ done to them then?"

"We've destroyed the line of the Malha."

Masterson's eyes widened as he understood.

* * *

**Notes:**

***** adam – "man"  
***** eesha – "wife" or "woman"  
***** Arown – "box" sometimes translated "ark" in the King James Version of the Bible  
***** Kapporeth – "covering," sometimes translated "mercy seat" in the King James Version of the Bible  
***** Heads up display  
*** **Malha – Hebrew name meaning "queen"  
*** **ma'al – "treachery  
*** **Rapha'owr – roughly means "healing light"

**Author's Note:  
The name Bemera is an adaptation of the original name Beemera.  
The name "Rapha'owr" was created for the sake of this story. If you Google it, you will not find it.**


	17. Intermission 2 Continued

**Intermission: Continued**

"I had heard rumors that what happened to your mother was… planned." Masterson said hesitantly.

"She was murdered, Masterson!" Desslok snarled. "Murdered by her own mother… They couldn't take her ship by themselves; they had to get inside information to do it. The traitor!" the prince's fist slammed into the wall and Masterson winced at the sound of denting metal.

"Sir, no one knew – "

"They _should_ have known! _He_ should have known. Why did he even let her take command of that ship?!"

"She was the best there was. She taught many soldiers to fight effectively. Her prowess is still lauded in every military institution on the planet. She was the only one for that mission. Your father knew that." Masterson waited for the prince's explosive anger. He was greeted with silence, so he continued. "She was the most familiar with the situation; she knew the enemy and their weaknesses. Her sources in the Bolar government wouldn't trust anyone else. There was no other choice…"

"There is _always_ another choice." Desslok seethed.

"Perhaps, sir."

There was silence for a moment. Masterson looked out the window and down on the Temple. The fire on the altar still blazed. Its flames leapt into the air, continuing its never-ending dance.

"Our family has turned on itself." The prince said quietly. "We have killed each other, betrayed each other… If everything my mother has revealed in her history so far is true even the very beginning of my family line was based in deceit and treachery." Desslok removed the glove from his left hand and tossed it almost carelessly onto a nearby piece of furniture. He studied the appendage as though it were foreign to him. The white portion of his hand seemed to stick out even more now than it ever had against the blue of the rest of his skin.

As Masterson watched, Desslok suddenly flew to the window, shaking his left fist and yelling, "Why did You mark me this way?! Why do You torment me with the curse of my line?"

"Sir…" Masterson tried to take the prince's mind away from his anger.

"What?!" Desslok snapped.

Masterson looked at the prince, gauging the wisdom of saying anything else. His loyalty as a friend won out over his discretion.

"Adonai did not mark you, my friend. But He will use that mark in ways that you and I cannot know now." Masterson said, referencing the conspicuous hand.

"Is that supposed to reassure me? Because it doesn't." Desslok bit back. "Your God – the God of that Temple" he pointed out the window, "doesn't care one bit what happens to me. Except for this," the prince held up the offending hand, "and this," he indicated his russet-blonde hair, "He hasn't convinced me that He really thinks much about my existence! He has forgotten about me altogether…"

Masterson's heart was heavy as he heard the prince say all of this, and as Desslok began to pace the length of the room the admiral's son shook his head and thought, "God has not forgotten you, my friend. He knows the plans He has for you. Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future…"

* * *

The next few hours were spent hashing out how the Guardiana followers had gotten into the palace grounds undetected.

Afternoon came and with it the realization that another obligation was becoming more pressing as the day wore on.

"Sir," Masterson interrupted the prince's one-sided conversation.

"What is it this time, Masterson?"

"The day is not getting any younger."

"I realize that." The prince said absently.

"Have you given any thought to that last exam tomorrow?" he ventured.

The prince stopped pacing and stared at him.

"Will you never stop hauling me back to reality, Talan?"

"No, sir." Masterson smiled.

"Go on. You weren't saying much anyway." The prince waved a dismissive hand his way.

Masterson went home, hoping that this time he might be able to get some sleep.

* * *

That night, even after an evening of scouring texts in preparation for the morning, the prince could not sleep once again. The events of the day played over and over in his mind, the incident with the Guardiana fanatics especially. Their power was unprecedented. How had they acquired the ability to summon a shêd* powerful enough to kill the enemies they marked for execution?

"I wish you could help me." He said quietly, staring at the small capsule resting in his bare left hand.

The small device remained inert.

"How did the Guardiana followers attain their power?" he inquired of the crystalline messenger.

Light spilled from the blue heart once again and the capsule lifted itself from his hand, floating just as it had the last time it had been activated.

He was tempted to look away from the place he knew the image of Talonka would appear. Instead, he steeled himself and watched the phantom appear.

"Your question is a good one, my son." Talonka smiled. "One that I will answer soon. But first, go and find Masterson. I must tell you both the next piece of my family's heritage. The hologram will reappear when you return."

Desslok nodded, then realized how stupid it was to be trying to interact directly with a hologram. Then the image disappeared.

Masterson was very vaguely aware of another knock on his door. This one sounded quite insistent, so he pried open his heavy eyelids.

"I'm coming…" he said, throwing on whatever clothes were nearest his half-conscious body. Before he had finished, the door opened and the prince stepped in, still wide awake.

Sometimes Masterson was convinced that Desslok was a recurrent insomniac – especially on occasions such as this one. Did he ever sleep these days?

"Come, Talan." The prince turned and left the room beckoning for his friend to follow him.

Masterson shook his head and chuckled to himself. Why he found the entire situation funny, he did not know. Maybe one day he would figure it out.

Thankfully it was not extremely late yet and Admiral Talan was still sitting out in the family's living area when the prince came through with Masterson in tow. As Desslok passed the Admiral he gave a short casual salute and said, "I'll bring him back."

"Before two in the morning, please. He doesn't run on the same batteries you do." The Admiral interjected.

Desslok half-smiled and nodded his capitulation, and Masterson shot a thankful look towards his father.

* * *

The two teenagers entered the prince's suite. As soon as the door had closed Desslok began talking.

"Talan, the shêdim* that the Guardiana followers summon - how did they get that power?"

"From Abaddon*." Masterson said groggily.

"No – yes – but that's not what I'm speaking of." Desslok said. "How did they ask for that power? Who decided that they needed it? Who initiated the pact between the shêdim and Malha Guardiana?"

"Your many-times sahv-tah rah-bah*?" Masterson ventured.

Desslok shook his head. "She only bargained for the survival of her descendants, not the utter destruction of her enemies. There's something else here – something we don't know yet."

"Sir?"

"What, Talan?"

Masterson looked at the prince with drooping eyelids. "What are you trying to say? I don't understand."

"I'm saying that there had to have been another point in time – a point in addition to that first bargain that supplemented the original agreement."

Masterson nodded, agreeing with the logic. "So… what was that point, sir?"

"That's what I'm hoping the rest of the message will tell us." Desslok gestured toward where he had left the holographic letter, then beckoned Talan to come stand in front of the reappearing image.

As the image of Queen Talonka appeared, Masterson shook his head in amazement. This was the second time he had seen this event, but he was just as amazed by this encounter as he had been with the first one. The Queen, though dead, stood before him, bearing witness to the events – and the miracles – of the past.

"Good, you are here, Masterson. Since my son has also entrusted you with this history, you should be here to know the rest. I cannot tell you how long it will take to finish this telling. There are many years yet between the death of Malcus and the present time. But I will tell you what you need to know in order to better understand our world – our galaxy – and the state of it.

"The power the Guardiana followers wield is a deadly one – one that they received from Abaddon himself many years ago."

Desslok and Masterson looked at each other, then back at the hologram.

The Queen continued, "But, before you understand the giving of that power, you must first understand the Derekh*: the seeking of another home – one where there were no wars, no racial prejudices, no political uprisings. This group of people became known as the Mnasonim*. Our ancestor Simay was one of the original Mnasonim. It is that piece of the story that I must tell you now – how the Mnasonim left their home in search of another."

The two young men stood speechless. The official records chronicled the coming of a group to Gamilon years ago, but it made no mention of these Mnasonim. How could such a significant piece of the past become lost to them? There was already so much the Gamilon people did not know about their origins. Most of the pieces of their past they still clung to were contained in the Temple of Adonai – with the exceptions of the religion, culture and language of their people, not much else had survived the pioneering efforts.

Another question rang in Desslok's mind now. "Were the Mnasonim and the first settlers of this world the same people?"

"Patience, my son." Talonka's voice rang through Desslok. "You will know the truth soon – sooner than you would like to."

The prince's brow furrowed in confusion. Sooner than he would like to?

He would have thought on the strange phrase longer, but his mother's voice drew him back into the past once more along with Masterson.

Images of the place called Masada formed in his mind again as he recalled the brief description his mother had given of the mountain fortress outside of the great Yerushalaim.

* * *

**Intermission Notes:**

*** Shêd – pronounced "shade" – translated "devil, or "demon"**

*** Shêdim – pronounced shay-deem' – plural form of shêd**

*** Abaddon – Hebrew name meaning "the destroyer", used to refer to Satan**

*** Sahv-tah Rah-bah – great-grandmother **

*** Derekh – journey**

*** Mnasonim – used here to mean "seekers"**


	18. Chapter 15: One Solution

**Chapter 15: One Solution**

Day after day passed with little excitement inside Masada. Simay and İskender continued to search for Ibrahim, but they could never find the boy. He seemed to have disappeared. Simay spent her nights worrying about her lost children – especially her daughter. At least Ibrahim had a chance of being found by a good family who would take him in and care for him. Little Seda did not have that chance – she was with a murderous traitor. Even though Simay knew that her daughter was in God's hands, Seda was _still_ her child and the maternal instinct to protect still drove her to despair at the thought of her little girl with Seda the betrayer. Her concern for her daughter drove her to pray everyday for the girl's safety.

* * *

Early one morning three months later, a couple of hours before the sun began to rise, Simay felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake.

"Wha..?" she asked sleepily.

"The Temple! It's burning!" İskender pointed insistently in the direction of Jerusalem.

"Burning?" she said "How can it be burning? I thought no one went in there except the priests."

"Romans have no respect for the holy places of those they conquer." İskender seethed.

"Romans? They haven't been driven out?"

"No, there are too many." İskender shook his head then motioned for her to come to the nearest wall. "You must see it."

Simay came to the wall and stared out towards the city, far away on the horizon. A bright glow was growing within the walls of Jerusalem – the center of the light was emanating from the place where the Temple used to stand. If Simay had been able to be there to see it, she knew that the beautiful structure would be wasted, lying in ruins, engulfed in flames.

"Messiah prophesied it –this disaster." the voice came to Simay's ears and she and İskender turned to see who had spoken.

An old man, face wrinkled with weather and age, stared out at Jerusalem as he continued. "I was there when He spoke of this. I was much younger then, but I remember that day…Yeshua said that there would not be one stone left upon another… Today is that day…"

The three stood solemnly, watching the fire spread from the Temple Mount out into the surrounding areas of the city. Even though Simay had never been allowed to see the inside of the Temple grounds, she wept for the loss – another piece of sadness to add to her growing burden for her children and the grief she still had for her husband.

"You were with Jesus?" İskender asked the old man, suddenly breaking the silence.

"I was." The man said, nodding, "I was quite young at the time, but I never forgot Him. I followed the group to Golgotha the day He died; I sneaked into Gethsemane two nights after Yeshua was entombed there. I waited and watched through the night. I must have fallen asleep sometime because I awoke to the cries of the guards. There was a bright light and a voice and then those Romans just fell over. What I saw next I can never explain… it was too wonderful. An angel – it must have been an angel – no man could have unsealed that stone and rolled it free from the tomb's door."

"You _saw_ the Resurrection?" İskender asked with eyes wider than Simay had ever seen them.

The old man nodded, smiling, "That was when I knew for sure that He was who He said He was – the Son of God." The look on the man's face left Simay and İskender with no doubts as to the veracity of what he had said. "He is Yeshua Mashiach." The man said quietly. "I am a Samaritan, despised by the Jews, but not by Yeshua. He offered life to all who would believe."

"We are Ephesian." İskender offered.

"She is your sister?" the man asked, referring to Simay.

"By faith, but not by blood." İskender explained. "She is… my best friend's widow…"

"Ah… I see. He is not long passed then." The old man said. "Also a follower of Yeshua?"

"Yes." İskender nodded, managing to hold in the tears that threatened to appear.

"Then he is well and happy." The old man said, echoing what the two Ephesian believers already knew. "He would not want you to be downcast on his account."

Simay did not speak but İskender nodded.

"And you, young woman." The old man came to Simay. "I think that you will find that God has prepared something especially for you."

This caught Simay's attention and she looked at the old man's face. His wrinkles betrayed a life filled with hardship, but they also could not hide the fact that, though he was here, in the midst of this troubled time, he was still joyful. Then he said something she did not expect.

"You should leave this place – both of you. It will not be safe here for much longer. Take your provisions and leave before the sun is up."

"Why do you tell us this?" Simay asked.

"Because I must." The old man said before nodding his good-bye and walking away.

Simay looked at İskender questioningly. The big Ephesian shook his head. "I don't know, Simay. I don't understand either. But I believe him."

Simay stood there for a moment, quietly on what the man had said. A new awareness seemed to dawn on her. She had never paid attention to it before now. The closest thing she could liken it to was when Diana used to guide her, but this was unequivocally different. The presence she sensed now was wonderful – the exact opposite of Diana's oppressiveness – and this presence spoke peace to her soul.

"I think I believe him too." She said.

"Let's go then." İskender marched back to their packs, followed quickly by Simay.

The two thought that their actions would draw attention, but to their surprise, no one seemed to care that the two strange foreigners were leaving. If they wanted to take their lives into their own hands, the rest of the occupants of the fortress would be happy to oblige them.

Instead of leaving Masada through the front entrance, İskender and Simay carefully left through a secret back door that İskender had learned about from one of the Jewish men who took up residence here after the Roman garrison stationed at Masada had been wiped out a few years ago.

The way out of the fortress was dark and treacherous, but the Ephesians managed to get out of Masada alive and well. Once down the mountain the question of where they should go arose quickly.

"We cannot go back to Jerusalem with the Roman's sacking the city." Simay said.

"No, certainly not." İskender agreed. "I think we should get to the other side of the Dead Sea, then take it from there. There is bound to be a safe haven somewhere on the other side of that salt water. But since there are so few boats that travel the Dead Sea, we will have to go around the Southern end of it.

Simay nodded in understanding and agreement and İskender continued, "It should not take us long to go that far. We can see the Dead Sea fairly well from here already. The hardest part will be getting across this rugged terrain between here and the water."

After that, both Ephesians stood quietly, surveying the land around them, not fully comprehending the journey they were about to embark on.

İskender bowed his head, "My Lord, You have brought us out of Masada and here to this very spot. Bring us safely to the place You would have us to be. We ask this in the name of Jesus."

As Simay listened to İskender's words she sent up a silent prayer of her own for her two lost children asking that God protect them from the evils that had fallen upon them all.

İskender took a deep breath and then stepped out in faith, down the rocky hill that he and Simay were standing on.

* * *

It took them two full days to make it around the tip of the Dead Sea and up to a small town several miles North of the Southern tip. The terrain was unforgiving which made the going slower than it otherwise could have been and Simay had been suffering from swollen feet and ankles – probably from a combination of the rough ground, the heat, and old shoes. But she trekked on, refusing to complain about how she felt – a vast difference from the Simay that İskender had been used to traveling with in the years past.

There were other marked changes in Simay over the next weeks and months. She still grieved over Malcus's death, but she was not in a constant state of despair as she had been the night after his murder. One thing did concern İskender though. During the two or three months after he and Simay reached the small town in which they now took refuge, the young woman always seemed to be hiding something.

It bothered İskender that Simay still did not trust him with something that was obviously important.. He tried several times to ask her what was on her mind, but she always changed the subject to something innocuous.

The big Ephesian finally gave up and waited for her to reveal her secret in her own time. He distinctly remembered several times that Malcus had tried to push Simay into telling him something. Those instances had not ended well.

İskender's evaluation of the situation proved to be correct when, a couple of weeks after he stopped trying to find out what was preoccupying her, Simay came to him with her situation.

İskender heard a knock on his door around midday. He set down the pen he was holding.

"Are you in the middle of something? I can come back later." Simay said timidly as she peeked into the room.

"No, no. I needed a break anyway." İskender said. "Copying the same invitation fifty times is rather tiring. This person has way too many family members." He smiled.

"Are you sure?" Simay asked again.

"Yes, I'm sure." İskender nodded and indicated the second chair in his small rented dwelling. "Please, sit."

Simay sat.

When she did not say anything İskender asked, "What's on your mind?"

Simay looked at the other Ephesian and started to say something, but stopped and started over.

"You remember what Malcus asked you to do?"

"Of course I remember." İskender said.

"Well… there was something he didn't know when he gave you that charge."

"It doesn't matter. A promise is a promise. I still intend to keep it, no matter what Malcus did or didn't know."

Simay took a deep breath before continuing. "I lost my husband and two of my children in one day… I might have lost the third if it hadn't been for you."

İskender stared at Simay, not believing what he had just heard.

"I didn't know myself until shortly after we reached Masada." She offered. "I'm sorry to burden you with this – especially now, with the Roman occupation and Seda on the loose with my daughter… I wish I could just put everything back together the way it was." She said, in tears.

"Simay." He said gently. "You are not a burden; you've become my good friend, and your husband was the best friend I have ever been honored to have. I promised to look after you and your children. If Malcus had known there would be a third, he would have asked me to guard that one too. I honor the spirit of my promise, not just the words of it."

Simay bravely swiped at the tears on her face, "Thank you, İskender. You don't know how much that means to me…"

The Ephesian smiled at the young widow sitting next to him, then his face became serious.

The change of expression startled Simay and she started to stand up to leave.

"Please, stay." İskender said, "I have something that I need to talk with you about as well. There's just never been a good time to bring it up. It's still not a good time, but it might be the best chance I get."

Simay sat back down, not knowing whether or not to be afraid of what İskender would say next.

"I've been thinking about the promise I made to your husband. I know that you and I, and this third child, will do everything we can to find Ibrahim and Seda again. I also know that as it is now, I am limited in my ability to protect you." He paused. "I've been thinking about how to correct that limitation."

Simay looked at İskender strangely.

He continued, "As far as I know, there is only one solution… And if you say 'no,' I will understand completely. If I were in your position, I don't know what I would say."

Simay's heart leapt into her throat as she waited for İskender to finally spit out what he was trying to say.

"I know that no one could ever replace Malcus in your heart, and I would never ask you to replace him…"

To Simay's dismay he paused again. The silent moment seemed to go on for eternity before he spoke again.

"Simay – my friend – will you be my wife?"


	19. Chapter 16: Promise to Protect

**Chapter 16: Promise to Protect**

"I…" Simay didn't know what to say. İskender was a friend – a good friend, but still only a friend. "I need some time."

"Of course. Take whatever time you need." İskender said.

Simay nodded and left feeling awkward and confused. She understood the logic behind İskender's thinking, but Malcus's death was only five months past… It was so hard to imagine herself as someone else's wife this soon after losing Malcus.

She shook the thought away; she couldn't even consider it right now.

She knew she shouldn't, but she found herself worrying more and more about what would happen to them here in this little forgotten town.

Simay walked slowly back to the place that she was staying, just down the street from İskender's rented space. For now their funds were alright, but she and İskender would not be able to stay here forever. Eventually they would have to find some other place to go. When would the Romans leave Jerusalem? When could she go back to find her lost son and daughter?

"I don't know what to do… how I should answer him…" Simay prayed silently. "Show me, Lord what You would have me do, and help me to accept it… whatever it may be."

No instant revelation dawned on her, but she did have a certain sense that all would be made clear in time.

Simay stepped into her tiny living space and sat down in one of the two chairs in the room, relieved to be alone with her thoughts for a while.

* * *

Three more months passed this way. Simay did not entirely avoid İskender, but she did not frequent his rented room. She continued to think and pray about the proposal, but as the day of her child's delivery drew nearer and nearer she began to feel an urgency that had not been there before. She knew that she needed to make a decision one way or the other very soon – before she had this baby.

She remained torn between the two choices – almost at a stalemate with herself. She just needed one push in one direction or the other.

* * *

One day, a day just like the many that had preceded it, Simay was returning home from one of her occasional midday meals with İskender. If she didn't cook for him once in a while he would eat the same thing every day, so she broke up his monotony sometimes with something other than dried fruit and meat.

The street was dusty and dirty as usual and when she got home she rinsed her feet off in a short water basin that she kept by the door. Then she started more of her everyday duties – mending a few clothes, keeping the dirt at bay, and many other tasks involved in housekeeping.

An hour or so after Simay had started her prescribed chores she was in the small separate bedroom sweeping up dust that had sneaked into the house on shoes and clothes. She continued her way around the room, stopping at the corners and crevices to sweep them clean. She turned around to sweep her dirt pile back out the bedroom door and then out into the street.

A leering face was staring at her through the bedroom door.

Simay had little time to scream before a dirty hand clamped over her mouth and a second rough hand captured her arms behind her. A third stranger appeared behind the man in the bedroom doorway.

Simay bit down hard.

The offender yelped and immediately slapped her.

"What do you want?!" she demanded of the three ruffians that now held her captive in her own home. As she spoke she fought to hide her fear.

"We're just here to scout out this little town – see what they've got to offer us." Said the obvious leader – the one with the permanent leer on his face.

"There's food in the other room. And I don't have any money." Simay said defiantly.

"Sure you don't" said Leer-face as his two compatriots – the dirty one holding her arms, and another ugly one with half of his right ear shaved off – laughed at her. "Everybody has money somewhere." He said before pointing at Ugly and ordering, "Search this place. See where she's hiding it."

"I told you, I don't –" Leer-face slapped her again, silencing her.

"Tie her up." The leader said to the dirty one.

Without a word the man holding her snatched a rope out from under his robe and looped it around her wrists securely before roughly sitting her down on the floor.

"Nothin' in here, boss," said the ugly one.

"Check the other room. And make sure to look everywhere."

The ugly one obeyed.

"Now." Said Leer-face, smiling unpleasantly as he knelt down and caught her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him, "Suppose you tell me your name, pretty one."

Simay did the only thing she could think of.

"Lord, help me!" she prayed.

* * *

İskender was scribbling away at yet another job that needed to have been done yesterday. Sometimes the customers he was able to get were quite demanding. This one wanted all two hundred copies of his son's wedding announcement done before the end of the week – tomorrow evening. This was not an impossible task, but it was going to require a lot more time than usual.

İskender's hand began to cramp. He set the pen down and shook out his tense muscles. Maybe now was a good time to take a break. A short walk would do him some good right about now.

He left his home and started to head down the street away from the center of the city. After a dozen steps he reconsidered and turned around, heading instead toward Simay's home.

Within ten minutes İskender was in sight of Simay's rented room. He started to walk past the place when he had the urge to stop. As he walked up to the door he noticed that there were several sets of shoe-prints in the dust – all of them much bigger than Simay's small feet.

Instead of knocking on the door he carefully peeked into the small window situated on the side of the house. İskender's eyes widened as he saw a man with half an ear rummaging through Simay's sparse possessions. Simay was nowhere to be seen from his vantage point. He waited at the window, hoping that the rummager would leave the room long enough for him to get into the house.

* * *

"My name is none of your business." Simay said icily.

"Funny name for a nice girl." Leer-face said, then asked, "So where's your husband?"

Simay started to say that her husband was dead, but then thought better of it and instead said defiantly, "That's none of your business either."

"Well now, maybe you don't have one." He replied.

Simay's silence condemned her.

"So, whose is the baby? You last guest?"

This angered Simay and she shouted back, "I have never been unfaithful to my husband!"

"What husband?" Leer-face said condescendingly.

Simay glared at the man.

"Oh, I see." He sneered, "He's dead, isn't he. Left you here all alone to make your own way in the world and support that child all by your self."

"No!" Simay said angrily.

"No to which part, nice girl?" he said with a sick smile.

"Just, no." Simay said, looking away.

"Boss." Ugly came back into the bedroom. "There's nothin' out there."

"I told you." Simay said quietly.

"I think you need to be quiet now." Leer-face said, as he pulled out a very sharp dagger and started picking at his nails with it.

Simay obeyed.

"So men, what shall we do with her?" the leader addressed Ugly and Dirty.

"She doesn't have anything to take, boss." Ugly said.

"True," Leer-face consented.

"But nobody's here to say we can't have some fun before we leave." Dirty's guttural voice rumbled into her ear.

"Also true." The leader said smiling. "Gag her."

Simay started screaming and fighting as hard as she could to get away from the man trying to silence her. If no one could hear her, no one would know she was in trouble.

"Lord, I need You now!" Simay's heart cried out to God. "Save me! Save my child!"

She smelled the dirty man's hands as he finally succeeded in tying the cloth around her face so that she couldn't scream anymore.

Ugly and Dirty stepped away from Simay and she started to hope that they might just leave her tied up. She hoped in vain.

She could see the blood shot eyes of the leader as he slowly stepped toward her. He grabbed her chin again, keeping her from looking away from him.

Simay squeezed her eyes tightly shut, bracing herself for what she knew would come next.

Suddenly two loud thuds came from behind Leer-face. Simay's eyes popped open as the man let go of her and whirled around to see what was going on. His face ran right into İskender's fist. With a loud crack the leader of the lawless group fell to the floor unconscious.

"İskender!" Simay tried to say, but it came out as "Skbbbhnmr!"

"Are you alright?!" İskender knelt down and got rid of the gag before cutting deftly through the rope around her wrists with his knife.

"Yes." Simay gasped. "Yes, thank God. How did you know to come here?" she said as the tears finally welled up in her eyes.

"I went for a walk. I was going to head out towards the edge of town, but something told me to come this way instead. I'm glad I listened." İskender helped Simay to stand and walk slowly over to the small bed. She sat down slowly and breathed out heavily as she came to rest on it. Then she finally let herself cry.

"Simay…" İskender said gently as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Everything's alright. You're fine, your child is fine. Those three," he gestured towards the unconscious men on the floor, "are not going to hurt you." He assured before retrieving another length of rope from one of the men and unceremoniously tying all three together and dragging them out into the street to sit ludicrously by themselves while he comforted the woman they had almost succeeded in violating.

İskender quickly shut the door to the house and hurried back to Simay who was still crying.

The big Ephesian silently knelt down beside the bed on which she sat. As he did he looked up at the weeping woman. His big hand took one of her delicate ones. He wanted to say something – anything, but he thought better of it and stayed silent.

* * *

That night Simay could not sleep. She kept thinking about what had happened earlier. If it was so easy for strangers to barge in and assault her once, what was to stop them – or anyone who pleased – from doing it again? If she only had to be concerned for herself she would manage somehow, but she was not on her own… She needed someone to watch out for her and her third child – someone she could trust.

The words İskender had said a while ago echoed in her mind, "There are no accidents in God's plans."

"No accidents…" Simay whispered to herself thoughtfully.

In that moment she knew what she should do. She started to resist it, to ask God why He wanted her to do this now, but she stopped herself.

"No accidents." She nodded and looked heavenward in acceptance. "I don't know why, but I know You do."

* * *

There was a soft knock at İskender's door.

He almost didn't hear it, it was so light. But the slight sound penetrated his sleep just enough to rouse him.

The knock came again.

"Yes?" He said groggily.

Another knock.

"I'm coming." İskender's gravely voice said.

He threw on the first clothes he could find and went to the door. He opened it and looked out into the darkness.

"Simay? Is that you?"

"Yes." She said.

"Come in out of the street." He stepped aside and motioned for her to come in.

"What's the matter?" İskender asked when he had closed the door behind Simay. The look on her face didn't make any sense. She was smiling at him – after a day like today, she was smiling.

"Yes." Was all she said.

"Yes, what, Simay? I don't understa – " Mid-sentence İskender realized what his friend had just told him. "Are you sure?"

Simay nodded. "I'm very sure, İskender. I trust you to keep your promise to protect me, and I know you'll never do anything that would break that promise." She stopped for a moment before sitting down in the same chair she had been in when İskender first proposed marriage to her three months ago. Then she continued, "This baby," she laid her hand atop her pregnant belly, "will not grow up without a father. And since Malcus cannot fill that role… I need you to do it instead."

İskender looked into Simay's eyes, "With the help of God, I will do my best for you both. And by God's grace, nothing like what happened today will ever happen again."

"I know, İskender." She smiled again, "I know."


	20. Chapter 17: Hadassah

**Chapter 17: Hadassah**

The marriage agreement between Simay and İskender was solidified within the space of two weeks. It would have been done sooner, but the two decided that they would have a Christian perform the ceremony. This provided a difficulty. There were few Christians in the area, and even fewer that could perform such a ceremony.

İskender had to search the nearby towns and eventually was able to find a man who would be able to perform the ceremony for them. Upon hearing of the situation, the man readily agreed to come to the town that İskender and Simay were staying in.

The ceremony was simple, just as Simay's first wedding had been, but it brought great relief to her to know that she now had someone who could act as protector – and teacher – to both her and this child very soon to be born.

As if one sudden change was not enough, Simay's estimate of the child's arrival proved correct when, not quite two weeks after her marriage to İskender, she gave birth to a healthy daughter.

* * *

Simay looked down at her second daughter, sleeping in her arms. As she gazed at the little girl, a sense of knowing swept through her happy heart. The Holy Spirit residing in her spoke – though not in words that any ear could have comprehended – and He told her that this little girl, and those who would follow after her, would be great. They might even have some great task set aside for them to accomplish. Perhaps they would, like the Christian teacher Paul, turn the world upside down in the days, years, centuries, or even the millennia to come.

"Now, if we could only get out of this town on the back-side of the desert." Simay whispered to her newborn with a smile.

* * *

The morning after the birth of her little girl, Simay sat in bed, again holding the nameless child, contemplating what her daughter's name should be.

"Simay?" İskender's voice reached her through the curtain that her new husband had put up to cordon off a section of their small dwelling for her.

"You can come in." she acknowledged.

İskender parted the curtain and stepped into the makeshift room. He took a seat in the chair that rested at Simay's bedside.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Her name, or rather, her lack of one."

"You have not given her a name yet?"

"No…" Simay said. "I was thinking that my son was named for Malcus's father who I do not know; my first daughter was named for the woman who was my best friend but betrayed me." She looked at İskender. "This girl – " she brushed her finger along the baby's cheek, "I don't want to name her after someone who will die, or might disappoint me in some way. I want her to always be a reminder to me that God is the only One who I will always be able to depend on."

İskender nodded in understanding.

"I remember something that Malcus told me once, after coming home from the synagogue one Sabbath day. The man who had read from the Torah chose a portion of Scripture from the writings of Moses. There is one small portion of it that I clearly remember Malcus reciting to me. 'I shall see him, but not now: I shall behold him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel.'*" Simay said, as a small tear escaped her eye and ran down her face at the memory.

"A prophecy of Messiah's coming." Said İskender.

"I know that now." She sighed. "A beautiful picture… one that I want to always remember when I look at her." She looked down at the baby again and was surprised to see the little girl staring quietly back at her.

"So you _have_ chosen a name for her." İskender smiled.

Simay nodded and wiped the wetness from her face before saying, "Her name will be Hadassah* – after that mighty and beautiful Star, Messiah."

* * *

The patchwork family continued to live in the small Dead Sea town. Little Hadassah grew quickly, and all of their lives became more normal than they had ever been, until news of another terrible event reached the small town several months before Hadassah's second birthday.

The impenetrable refuge had fallen. The Masada fortress – from which İskender and Simay had fled two years ago – had just been raided by the Romans.

Upon hearing the news both İskender and Simay remembered the old man who had come to them the morning of their departure. He had said that Masada would not be safe for much longer. If they had not listened – if they had waited for even a few months longer – it would have been difficult, perhaps even impossible, for them to leave Masada. God had pushed them out of the fortress at just the right time.

After much prayer, and in light of the fall of Masada, İskender decided that he, Simay and young Hadassah must leave the city and seek refuge farther away from Jerusalem, perhaps somewhere farther northeast of the Dead Sea, closer to northern Arabia.

And so, İskender took his two charges out of the borders of Israel and into the wilderness, away from the chaos and death that pervaded Israel.

* * *

Meanwhile – as İskender, Simay and Hadassah left their temporary home – within war-torn Jerusalem, another scene was playing out that would affect İskender's band immensely in the coming years.

"Ssseda."

The nine year old heard the awful voice hissing in her ear.

"Ssseda, you will listen to me."

The frightening voice came again from the mouth of the woman whom she had always known as her namesake – the woman she had come to loath as her captor.

"Y-yes." The girl stammered in terror as the older woman began to circle her.

The black room in which she was kept seemed to emanate with evil. It was almost as if you could have reached out and grabbed handfuls of terror from the air, the atmosphere was so thick. Only one small light glowed in the room – a tiny candle nearing the end of its life.

Little Seda stared at the small flame, concentrating on it, clinging to one last ray of hope, that she might be set free from this awful place someday soon. For three horrifying years she had been secreted away here, being force-fed her namesake's insane schemes for revenge and suffering nights filled with tormented dreams.

"Perhaps if I pretend to go along with her, she'll finally let me leave." The girl thought. "She doesn't seem to listen to me when I tell her that I don't want to do the things that she tells me I have to do – like talking to that – that _thing_ she calls 'Diana.'" She shivered at the thought of the venomous spirit.

"Ssseda, listen to me." The voice came again, this time in a tone that was a bit less intimidating.

"I am listening." The girl said.

"Good." Said the woman. "Diana will speak to you now, Seda."

The little girl swallowed the fear that always rose in her on occasions like this and mustered a strained, "Hello, spirit…"

"Hello, daughter." The eerie voice said quietly. "Why do you still fear me? I do not come to frighten you, only to tell you the truth about yourself and about your mother who betrayed me."

Little Seda had heard all of this before. "I know, spirit. That is what you told me last time you talked to me."

"So I did." Said the spirit. "But you were not truly listening, so I must repeat myself to make sure that you understand everything you need to know before…" the spirit let the end of the sentence drop off, playing on the sense of curiosity that the little girl still possessed.

"Before what, spirit?" Seda took the bait.

"Before you are allowed to leave here of course."

"Leave?! I can leave?!" she said excitedly.

"Only if you listen to me." The spirit said with a voice dripping with sweetness, but secretly laced with poison.

Seda thought about this for a few moments, weighing her options. If she listened to what this thing had to say, then she could leave. Just listening didn't seem to be so bad. Why hadn't the spirit mentioned this before now? She would have gotten this over with a long time ago.

"Alright." Seda said. "I will listen to what you have to say." Then quickly added, "But you promise that I can leave if I listen to you?"

"I promise," said the spirit that called itself Diana. "Now, shall we begin?"

"Yes." Seda nodded.

* * *

All through that day and into the next Diana told young Seda about her mother, Simay's, treachery in listening to the lies that the Ephesian man Sojourner had told Malcus, her father. Then the spirit related to Seda how important it was that she take up the mantle that her mother had so callously tossed aside when she had forgotten Diana.

The spirit's words were gentle and insistent, not at all how she remembered them sounding before. Maybe she had been imagining the hard edge that she had always heard in the spirit's voice. Maybe because she had not wanted to listen she had invented a reason not to like Diana. She was beginning to think that her previous judgments of the spirit had been unfounded.

"Your mother has joined the side of the Enemy since you were brought here three years ago by my faithful servant, your namesake." Said Diana. "The man Sojourner convinced your mother to believe the same lies that he told your father. We must stop her from spreading those dangerous tales anymore than she already has."

Seda, now convinced that what Diana was telling her was true, nodded in agreement, "Those poor people need to know what the real truth is."

"Precisely, Seda." Said the spirit enthusiastically, "You are wise to see this. Your mother saw it once, before she lost sight of it and took up the cause of the Enemy."

"Then I have to take her place." Said Seda, playing right into the spirit's hands, "I have to be the one who keeps your memory alive so that everyone will know that the lies that that man and my mother are spreading cannot be believed."

"Yes!" The spirit said, elated at this new turn of events in its master's favor.

"I will renew the promise that my grandmother made to you, the one you told me about. If I have a daughter someday then she will worship you and spread the truth about those terrible lies." The little girl put on her best grown-up face as she said this.

The demon laughed within itself. This little human had absolutely no idea what it had just promised to do – just like its mother and grandmother had not understood what they had promised either. Hopefully this one would not be lost to the Enemy as the other two had been.

"You are a brave girl, Seda." Said the demon Diana. "I accept your renewal of the promise. From this time onward you will be my servant, and you will help me to spread truth and wisdom throughout the world."

The little girl smiled happily, utterly deceived.

"Now, in order for you to serve me as you need to, you must let me come into your mind." Said the sprit. "That way, we can think as one instead of me having to take the time to tell you every time I need you to do something for me."

"Alright." The little girl quickly agreed. "You can come now if you want."

Those were the words that the demon had been waiting to hear for three years. The girl had just invited it to possess her. That one small fact would come in handy much later, the spirit was quite sure – especially dealing with those exorcise-happy followers of the Enemy. If it was in possession of a willing host, the Enemy would not throw the demon out – not with His petty persistence on allowing these human creatures to have a free-will.

The little girl stood smiling, waiting for Diana to come into her mind. The moment the spirit possessed her, that innocent smile disappeared.

* * *

A week later in a town just East of Israel and just North of Arabia, İskender, Simay and Hadassah found a small house that they could renovate easily enough. İskender and Simay cleared out the dust and dirt – with occasional "help" from Hadassah.

The chore of preparing the dwelling was soon complete and the three prepared to stay for as long as necessary, still fully intending to return to Jerusalem when the chaos had lifted and it was relatively safe to go back.

Seven years flew by this way. During that time İskender faithfully taught Malcus and Simay's daughter about the God he and Simay served. His teaching took root in Hadassah's young mind and she came to believe in and love Jesus just as her mother Simay and protector İskender did.

During those seven years Hadassah also learned of her true parentage and the story behind her father's death. Even though Hadassah had never known her father her child's heart came to love him anyway. When asked by other adults who her parents were she would always give three names, İskender, Simay and Malcus of Jerusalem. Because she was a child, no one bothered to try to correct the perceived lack of understanding. Hadassah was always thankful for that oversight. Children were glossed over in a lot of ways, but Hadassah learned that sometimes, that was an advantage. And it was because of her mere nine years that the girl overheard a certain conversation at the market one day:

Hadassah tired quickly of sorting through piles of produce and meat slabs, so today, like most days, she asked if she could go look at some of the wares being offered a few stalls down from the ones her mother frequented.

"Just be careful." Simay said hesitantly, as she always did. "I don't want you to disappear on me."

"I won't, mama. I'll stay right there until you come for me, just like every other day." Hadassah assured.

"Go on then, my little Star. I'll be there soon."

Hadassah perused the few stalls that separated her from the one that she really wanted to rummage through – the leather goods. The vendor usually had a stack of beautiful wares to look through and he sometimes gave Hadassah small pieces of scrap leather that he couldn't use.

Today though, just before she got to the tanner's stall she happened to catch a few words of a conversation that piqued her interest.

"Did you hear about the Consul's daughter?" said a merchant to one of his regular customers.

"Porcia?" the customer asked.

"No, Juliana, the younger one."

"No, what about her?" the customer queried.

"Rumor has it that she's to be married within the month – and to a no-name Jewish boy. He's supposedly from Jerusalem." The merchant said in a bit quieter voice.

"A Roman marrying a Jew? Unheard of!"

"And you know what's even stranger about it?" the merchant asked even more quietly. "They say that he doesn't even know who his family is. The family that raised him found him wandering alone outside Jerusalem almost ten years ago."

* * *

**Notes:**

*** Numbers 24:17**

*** Hadassah – Hebrew name meaning "myrtle" or "star"**


	21. Chapter 18: To Be Together Again

**Chapter 18: To Be Together Again**

"İskender, could it be him?" Simay asked, a look of wild hope in her eyes.

"It's always possible." He replied. "We asked that God take care of Ibrahim, and I believe He has – whether this particular young man is him or not."

"He would be eighteen now…" Simay said wistfully. "And my Seda would be sixteen…"

"Mama,"

Simay felt a small hand tug on her sleeve. "Yes, Hadassah."

"We'll find them." The little girl stated confidently.

"You can't know that, dear." Simay said suddenly downcast.

"But I do know, Mama."

The utter conviction in her daughter's voice caught Simay's attention and she looked at İskender. The man nodded, seeming to understand Hadassah's confidence in a way that Simay didn't. The only explanation that she could conjure was that God had given this girl a special kind of faith that Simay would ever really understand.

* * *

The marriage between Juliana and the young Jewish man was to take place before the end of the month. Rumors flew about how and why the consul's daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law had chosen this little town to conduct their wedding in.

Guests began to arrive a few days before the ceremony itself. The increased traffic was good for business and the merchants soon abandoned their gossiping, focusing instead on the profits they were raking in.

The day of the ceremony came. Juliana, her family, and her groom all gathered at the house that would stand in place of the bride's family's real house many cities away.

A Roman wedding in a town like this one was not an event to be ignored. Guests and strangers alike lined the streets, awaiting the emergence of the bride and groom.

The first portion of the ceremony seemed to go without incident. Even the ritual sacrifice of the pig did not disgust too many of the denizens – though a few of the more Orthodox Jews left the festivities.

As the bride and groom left the first house Hadassah tried to push her way through the crowd of people, straining for a glimpse of the couple. Her diminutive height betrayed her and she was pushed away. The same thing happened when the couple left the second house – the one where the groom's parents were staying.

Not willing to give up so easily, Hadassah wracked her brain, going through the whole traditional Roman ceremony in her mind.

"The bride and groom will split off from each other soon." Hadassah thought and ran away from the crowded area towards a more sparsely populated section of town. The girl lapsed into a prayer as she ran, "Jesus, help me to know where I should go; guide my feet…"

Hadassah ran down first one street, then another, searching for a likely route for the groom to take to the house he would present to his bride. She rounded a corner and almost ran through a roadblock. A few obviously Roman men stood guard, making sure that no one else used the street until the wedding party had passed.

"Sir?" Hadassah's small voice called out to one of the men.

The Roman turned to see who had called out. He saw Hadassah and said, "What can I do for you, little miss?"

"Is this the street that the groom will be travelling to his new house?" she asked hopefully.

"It is indeed." The man said proudly. "And a fine man he is – even if he is a Jew."

"What is his name, sir?" Hadassah probed, eyes bright with anticipation.

"It's – "

"Valens! He's coming!" shouted one of the other men stationed down the street back towards the wedding party.

"I must go." The man nodded to Hadassah and ran down the street to meet the coming groom and his portion of the procession. His companions remained to keep the crowds out of the street.

Hadassah's heart crept up into her throat as she watched Valens greet the groom – a handsome young man who, surprisingly, lacked the facial hair she had expected him to have. His face remained unclear until he was within about twenty feet of her. By then men, women and other children were packed in around her. If there had not been a rope strung across the opening between buildings the crowd would have spilled out into the streets.

The groom's face, now in focus, was unmistakably of at least half Israeli blood. His dark hair and eyes were complemented by his skin – a bit lighter than her own. His walk was confident and less militaristic than a Roman's would be. All of this information Hadassah filed away in her mind to describe to her mother later.

The girl caught her breath as the groom walked by, not three feet from her. To her shock, he looked directly at her and almost stopped in his tracks, his eyes opening wide, a spooked look spreading across his face. Hadassah thought that he might even come over to her. But to her disappointment he was swept along by Valens and the rest of the swarming attendants, none of whom were paying attention to the strange look on the young man's face.

The instant that Hadassah saw the young groom's face change she knew without doubt that this was her brother.

* * *

"Hadassah!" Simay called out when she saw her youngest child returning from her mission. "Did you see him?"

"Yes!" Hadassah said excitedly as she shut the front door. "I _know_ it's him. He saw me and his face changed. It was like he thought he was seeing a ghost." She played with a few strands of her long hair. The simple gesture resulted in a strange expression clouding her mother's face.

"What is it, mama? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You…" Simay began, "In this light… you look so much like your sister, Seda… Your hair is not as red as hers, but it still holds some highlights. In this midday sun, the coloring stands out clearly." She paused, still staring at Hadassah. "İskender!" she called out.

The loud footsteps of the man Hadassah had come to know as "father" sounded as he came quickly in response to Simay's call.

"Did she see him?" İskender asked before he realized Hadassah was standing right there. When he saw her he adjusted his inquiry, "Did you see him, Hadassah?"

"Yes, father." She smiled. "I saw my brother."

İskender nodded, accepting his little charge's evaluation without a second's hesitation.

In this, and many other ways, İskender was like no other man that Simay had ever seen or known. His acceptance of her daughter's vision often amazed Simay. This man accepted Hadassah's statements more readily than Simay did many times. The big Ephesian seemed to hear not only the words Hadassah said, but the Spirit of faith behind them. As much as she had loved Malcus, Simay didn't think that he would have understood his third child the way that İskender was able to.

İskender and Hadassah were suited to each other in a way that Simay could not explain. Even though she was not his child the Ephesian showed the girl the love that any man would show a child who shared his blood.

As she thought about İskender and Hadassah, Simay realized that through the nine years since Hadassah's birth she had truly come to love this man – for his understanding, his honor, his faith, his kindness. Then, for the first time since she married him, Simay smiled at İskender, letting her affection for him show. This made the Ephesian stop midsentence. Hadassah, with whom he had been conversing, looked first at her mother, then at İskender.

"I'm going to go sweep now… or something." Hadassah said, hiding a grin before she left the room to find something to preoccupy herself with for a while.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" İskender asked Simay as soon as the nine-year old had left the room.

"You love my daughter, don't you?" She said.

"Of course I do. I love her like she was my own." The answer came.

"And do you love my first two children?" She continued.

"You know I do." He said.

"And," she paused, her face softening, "do you also love _me_?"

İskender looked at the woman he had married – the woman he had been charged to protect – whose family he had promised to reunite – and he thought back through the past nine years, stopping every so often at the occasional memory until he finally came back to the present.

"Yes, Simay." He nodded. "I love you."

Simay's hug caught the Ephesian by surprise. In the nine years of their marriage she hadn't so much as laid a hand on his shoulder – much less hugged him – so he did the only thing he could think to do. He returned her hug.

* * *

Hadassah cracked open the door just in time to see something that she had never seen her mother and adoptive father ever do before – share a real hug. Then, to her delight her mother kissed İskender before laying her head on his shoulder and thanking him for loving her and her family enough to dedicate his life to bringing them back together again.

* * *

Over the next several days all three of them: Simay, İskender and Hadassah searched the city for the newly married couple. Hadassah took her parents to the place where she had been on the day of the marriage – the place where the groom had seen her. But the street was crowded with the normal traffic. There was no indication as to where the couple's home was.

İskender went from door to door along that street asking if anyone knew where the consul's daughter and her new husband were living. No one seemed to know anything.

The family sought out the best parts of the city and asked the servants of the houses if they knew anything. The only helpful bit of information that they gathered was that the Consul and his wife owned a house – which in reality was more of a mansion – which they visited once in a while. The dwelling was located towards the edge of town.

The three went quickly to the house but it was shut up, unoccupied, though it appeared to have been recently lived in.

İskender studied the great house, the elegant architecture, well-tended gardens, and the rolling pastures surrounding it. It was as he was surveying the scene that he spied a lone gardener, pruning a host of oddly shaped bushes.

"Sir?" the Ephesian called out to the other man.

No response came, so İskender tried again, speaking louder this time.

"Sir?!"

"Hmm?" the servant grunted in return.

İskender moved closer to the gardener so as not to have to shout.

"Where is the family that lives here?"

"Nobody really lives here on a regular basis." The servant replied in his gravely voice.

"I know." İskender said, "But it looks like someone stayed here recently."

"That's because someone did." The other man said.

"Who was here then?" İskender probed.

"That girl Juliana and her half-breed Jew she convinced her father to let her marry." The gardener rolled his eyes. "His parents are higher-ups back in Jerusalem or somethin'. Really rich."

İskender looked back at Simay who was covering her mouth with one hand, hope in her face.

"Do you know Juliana's husband's name?" İskender turned back to the gardener.

"Look," the gardener held up his blade, "I've got alotta work to do. These things don't prune themselves, you know."

"Yes, I know, sir, but this is very important."

The servant rolled his eyes again, gave a heavy sigh and looked at the bothersome Ephesian with annoyed eyes. "If I tell you his name will you go away?"

"Yes." İskender nodded emphatically.

"Alright then." The man said. "Her husband's name is Avraham – at least, that's how the Jews pronounce it."

"Did anyone ever call him anything else?" the Ephesian asked.

"I thought you were goin' to go away." The man glared back at the Ephesian.

"I need to know, sir. I won't ask you anything more. Just answer this one last question."

Reluctantly, the servant nodded, "Okay. Fine."

"Did anyone ever hear anyone call Juliana's husband by another name?" he repeated.

"I'm thinkin'." The gardener said rudely.

The two men stood there in silence for the better part of a minute before the servant spoke again. The quietness was filled with a combination of annoyance, anticipation and anxiety.

"Well, they were only here for a couple days – left yesterday morning in fact – and I didn't really hear them talkin' much. Only heard the other servants callin' him 'Sir' or 'Master.' But…" he paused, "I do remember one time when the mistress came outside – into this very garden in fact – and called out a name. And I think it was…" the gardener scratched his head for a moment. "I think it was 'Ibrahim.'"

At the sound of her son's name Simay began to cry, relief welling up in her heart. But soon the relief mingled with sadness as it dawned on her that she had missed finding her son by a mere day.

"Thank you, sir." İskender sighed as he turned around and walked back over to his wife and step-daughter. The gardener, neither understanding the strange line of questioning, nor caring why the man needed to know something so random, returned to his pruning.

Little Hadassah looked up at her weeping mother, "We'll find him, mama. God wants our family to be together again – I know He does."

The expression of childlike faith caught Simay off-guard and she stopped crying as the truth of the girl's statement came to rest in her heart. She looked back at her daughter through teary eyes. "You're right Hadassah, He does."

"Let's go back home for now." İskender said as he came up to them. "We can't do anything else here."

* * *

**Chapter 18 Reference:**

**Powers, Jennifer Goodall. "Ancient Weddings." 1997. Found on albemedia dot com.**


	22. Chapter 19: Leave This Place

**Chapter 19: Leave This Place**

Another thirteen years flew by, sometimes too slowly, sometimes too quickly. Every chance they got, İskender, Simay, or Hadassah visited the grounds of the Consul's second house. Sometimes there would be occupants, sometimes not. Every time one of the three seekers saw someone occupying the dwelling they waited to see who that person might be, harboring hopes that it might possibly be Ibrahim. Every sighting ended in disappointment. The family saw many guests of Consul and once even the Consul himself, but not once did they catch a glimpse of Simay's elusive son.

A now-twenty-two-year-old Hadassah stood at the small front window of the house that she still dwelt in with her mother and adoptive father. Outside, rain had started to fall. The overhang jutting out from the house covered the area immediately in front of the window and front door, providing a refuge for anyone who might happen to come by and need a respite from the weather.

Hadassah twirled her dark brown and auburn curls in her fingers – a habit she had picked up years ago, the day she had seen her brother. The simple gesture reminded her that she would one day see her brother again. The certainty rose in her heart more and more often as of late, which she found peculiar in light of the passage of so much time since Ibrahim's wedding day.

Hadassah continued to stand at the window, watching the rain pool into messy puddles in the dirt street, muddying the hems of garments, the hooves of horses, mules and other pack animals, and the paws of the strays scampering through the wet road in search of a hiding place. She would have turned away from the ordinary sight, but something in her wouldn't let her release the scene. A sense of urgency fell upon her and she stayed at the window, waiting for something –she did not know what.

Minutes passed with no earth-shattering events. Everything was quiet in the street and the house. Her parents had retired a little while ago in preparation for the family's journey in the morning. Word had come to them that there was a group about whose sole purpose was to sweep through the surrounding towns and wipe out every Christian they could find.

This group no doubt thought that hunting down Christians would be an easy task. They had been sorely wrong. A piece of Isaiah's writings swept through her mind, "No weapon formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of Jehovah, and their righteousness is of me, saith Jehovah."

This small remembrance brought a smile to Hadassah's face. Thus far the group of murderers had utterly failed in their attempts to take lives. They had left waves of destruction behind them, but not one life had been lost. God's people had always received the warnings– or in some cases, the protection – they needed.

The prospect of being chased by murderers was still disturbing, but it was not as terrifying as it might have otherwise been. Her heart was assured that her Lord would protect her and her parents – and her brother and sister, wherever they might be and in whatever state they found themselves. The gentle knowing that she had been gifted with by the Spirit of God had brought her great comfort and assurance through the years.

A sudden movement flashed into Hadassah's peripheral vision. Two darkly clothed figures – one tall, the other short – ran full-tilt down the street towards the house.

Hadassah felt her heart jump. Were theses two of the group that they had heard about? Had they come early to scout out the town?

Wait. The smaller figure was clinging to the taller one's hand. The hood slipped off of the short one's head revealing the fearful face of a young teenage girl with tightly curled blonde hair.

These were no blood-hunters.

Almost instantly, the taller figure jerked the hood back over the girl's face. Hadassah could not figure out whether it was to keep the rain off of her or to hide her face, the motion was so panicked.

Booted – not sandaled – feet splashed through the water-filled streets, sprinting ever-closer to the overhang. Within a handful of seconds the two strangers were ducking beneath the canopy.

The taller figure turned around to face the house as he walked in front of the window and let out a startled exclamation.

"I'm – I'm so sorry!" he – the voice was a man's – apologized profusely for shouting in her face. Hadassah could not fully see the man's face due to the gathering darkness outside and the lack of light underneath the overhang. In fact, she was wondering how he saw her so well in the low light. "Will you help us?"

An apology and a plea for help in the same breath.

"And what do you want my help with, sir?" Hadassah asked still look ing at him through the window.

"We're being pursued by those who would seek our lives, good woman."

"And what makes you think that I will help you?" she countered.

"I –" he stared at her, his muddy brown eyes becoming more visible to her as her eyes adjusted to the added darkness contributed by his hood. "I don't know…" he said with an air of defeat in his voice.

Hadassah stood staring down at him and the girl. His sister? In her heart she prayed for wisdom. There was no time to fetch İskender if the insistence in this man's voice was anything to go by.

"Come, Atara." The stranger turned to go.

"Wait." Hadassah disappeared from the window and reappeared at the now-open doorway. "Come in."

He tiled his head in a show of skepticism.

"Please." She gestured for the two to come through the door.

The man nodded and tugged on the girl's hand, urging her to follow quickly.

The moment the door was shut behind them the man's stance became less defensive and more desperate. He turned to Hadassah, "Is your husband here?"

The young woman looked at him strangely until she realized that he had mistaken her for the lady of the house. "Oh, no, I am not married. I live here with my parents. Please, take off your cloaks. I will hang them by the fire to dry."

The man made no move to obey her. "I need to speak to the man whose house this is."

"He has retired for the evening. Do you wish for me to wake him?"

"Yes." The emphatic answer came.

The girl carefully pulled her hood back to reveal her face. It was then that Hadassah noticed the telltale signs of fatigue etched in her face.

Hadassah nodded solemnly and quickly stole through the small house back to where her parents' room was.

She rapped sharply on the closed door and called out, "Father?"

Almost instantly the sound of İskender rising from sleep came to her ears. Within a couple of minutes he was at the door, fully clothed and wide-awake. Her mother was not far behind him.

"What is it, Hadassah?" he asked with concern.

"There is a man here who says that he must speak with you." She looked at her father pointedly. "He did not say so, but I do not think that it can wait until the morning."

İskender nodded, making it a point to let both his wife and step-daughter see the knife he wore at his side, ready for whatever this stranger had brought with him if he intended trouble.

The big Ephesian strode back into the main room of the house, his senses all on edge.

When he reached the room, the stranger's back was to him. The girl who accompanied him had removed her wet cloak and looked a bit lost in the new and strange surroundings.

The man's dark curly hair was all the İskender could see. It stood out in contrast to the girl's striking blonde tresses.

"She is your sister?" İskender ventured in a quiet voice.

"My daughter." The man said without turning around.

There was silence between the two men for a moment as İskender attempted to evaluate the strange pair.

"My daughter tells me you need to speak with me." The Ephesian finally said.

The stranger nodded, his back still towards İskender.

"I would be much happier if I could see the face of the man with whom I'm speaking." İskender said.

The stranger shifted, finally turning towards the Ephesian.

The look of urgency in the man's face struck İskender.

"You have the look of a man who has something on his mind."

"The Spirit of God is here."

The stranger's sudden candor took İskender off guard, but not enough to keep him from replying, "All in this house claim the name of Jehovah as God."

"Then we have to leave the city." The stranger said.

"Why? What makes it so urgent?" İskender countered.

"They're coming for you. My daughter and I have been running from them for four days. We live – or rather, used to live – in a prosperous Roman town west of here until that bunch came through. My wife and other three children would have given my daughter and I up but we found out in time and fled for our lives."

"We knew about their coming, but they were not supposed to reach this town for two more days. We had planned to leave just before day-break –"

"You cannot wait that long." The stranger interjected, "They will be here by then. You must all leave this place now!"

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" İskender tested.

"You don't." he admitted. "The only token of good faith that I can give you is my name. I am – "

"Ibrahim!" the excited whisper escaped Hadassah's lips when she rounded the corner and saw the stranger's face.

"Yes, but how did you kn -" the man stopped suddenly as Hadassah moved closer to the glowing fire. Just as it had those thirteen years ago, the light revealed the true coloring of the girl's hair. "You! You were the one I saw that day!" he pointed animatedly at Hadassah. "How do you know who I am?"

"She's your sister – my daughter. And you are my son." Simay's joyous voice suddenly reached Ibrahim as the woman came to stand beside İskender. "After all these years of searching… God brought you right to our door."

The look on Ibrahim's face went from anxiety to disbelief. "But… My family is back in…" his sentence trailed off as he remembered how he had come to be a part of the family he had grown up in.

The look in this woman's eyes told him that what she had said was the truth. How it could be so, he did not pretend to understand. So, swallowing his surprise for the time being, Ibrahim said, "I want to know everything, but we have to leave, and we have to do it now."

"Let's go then." İskender said, glancing around first at Simay, that at Hadassah before looking at both the blonde girl and Ibrahim in turn.

* * *

The rain had eased off, making the dark path easier for them to navigate without having to worry about poorer visibility due to the downpour. The exodus began smoothly, but as the family and their two recent re-additions got to the foothills surrounding the town they looked back. They could see the oncoming hunters' torches shining brightly through the light rain.

"We've lost enough time already." İskender said to his party. "We must get farther away from the city." He turned to Ibrahim. "I had thought we might be able to go back towards Jerusalem, but now I think we had better go somewhere else. Where would you advise?"

Ibrahim, surprised that his this man - who looked an awful lot like one he vaguely remembered calling "Sojourner" many years ago – would be asking his counsel at a time like this replied "Southeast. The Arabs don't like Christians any more than the Romans do, but at least they won't kill us on sight. For now."

İskender nodded. "A wise idea. Let us go south then – to the great desert of Arabia."


	23. Chapter 20: The Desert's Secret

**Chapter 20: The Desert's Secret**

When Simay heard what her husband said she froze.

"What's wrong, mother?" Hadassah laid a hand on Simay's arm.

Simay took a deep breath and looked at her youngest, "Thirty-three years ago I set out to do something. What your father said just reminded me of it… but now is not the time for that story." She patted her daughter on the shoulder. "You should go talk with your niece. I'm sure she would love to have someone to talk with who isn't thirty years older than her."

"Alright." Hadassah nodded with a smile then dropped back to be with her brother's daughter.

* * *

"Hello." Hadassah greeted the teenager.

"Hello to you too." The girl smiled at Hadassah.

"You're… Atara, right?"

"All my thirteen-year old life." She replied.

Hadassah laughed. "Well, my name is Hadassah. I'm your father's little sister. He, uh… He never got a chance to meet me when he was younger." She sobered.

"Why not?" Atara asked.

"He never told you the story?" Hadassah looked at her niece, confused.

"No… he didn't." she shook her head.

"Do you think he would mind if I told it to you?" Hadassah asked.

Atara shrugged. "I don't think he would mind. He always said he wasn't exactly sure what happened. There's a gap in what he knows, so if you know the whole story you would probably be able to tell it better anyway." The blonde girl smiled, still looking tired from the journey she had taken with her father.

"Alright then," her aunt said with a smile. "My mother – your grandmother – told me the first portion of the story when I was about nine. The rest of it I remember quite well from personal experience."

As the group continued their journey away from the formerly-peaceful town Hadassah related to Atara how Ibrahim had been lost in the flight to Masada; how Simay and İskender had married just before Hadassah was born; how she, Simay and İskender had never stopped searching for Ibrahim – even though it had been over twenty years since he had been lost.

"So… you never knew your father." Atara said softly.

"No. I never had the chance." Hadassah said wistfully, "But I'll see him someday." She smiled, then sobered again. "I do not know how he died – only that he never made it out of Jerusalem. I've asked your grandmother many times, but she never really wants to discuss it. Not that I blame her really. It took half of my childhood for her to realize that my step-father truly loved her and that she loved him as well. But she never forgot my father – and I don't think she ever will."

"I don't think she will either." The teenager agreed.

The aunt and niece fell into a temporary silence. Then Hadassah realized that, although they had been talking for the past several hours, Atara hadn't really said much about herself – other than that she was thirteen and that Ibrahim was her father.

"Atara?" Hadassah asked with a hint of curiosity in her voice. "How did you and you and your father come to be followers of the Way*?"

The girl shrugged. "It was rather ordinary really. My father found out about a group of people meeting in the town we live – used to live in. They didn't really talk about where the meetings were held – it changed from week to week – sometimes more often than that. Father went out one day, determined to find someone who went to those meetings so that he could find out what they were all about – in case he needed to do something about it. God led him to one of the men who took his family to the meetings. Father told me that once the man decided that he wasn't going to jail them all – in our town Christians are not viewed in the best light, though we are tolerated to a certain extent – that he invited him back to his family's house so that they could talk.

"Father spent several hours at the family's home, asking questions and listening to the man's answers. Father said that one thing that truly struck him as unique was the fact that the man was a Gentile, and yet he spoke the words of the Prophets of the God of the Jews. It was a paradox to him. He had been taught that Jews did not generally deal with Gentiles and Gentiles did not mix with Jews – especially not religiously.

"Another thing that caught Father's attention was that the man's faith claimed to have a Leader who had raised Himself from the grave – an utter impossibility. This almost put Father off of what the man was saying. But when he started to dismiss it as mere ramblings the question came to him, 'What if – against the odds – what this man was telling him was true?'

"There was just enough doubt in his mind that he stayed and continued to talk with the man who continued to tell him about a person called 'Jesus' – the Son of God who made an atonement for all men if only they would accept Jesus as their Saviour.

"Father found himself actually believing what the man said and he became a Christian that day.

"I was only eight at the time but when Father came home from that man's house he instantly began trying to convince us of the Truth he had found. Mother never looked at him the same way after that. My sisters were only two and four at the time and my brother Silvanus was six.

"I think that Vesta and Silvanus would have believed what my father told us, but Mother's mocking deterred them. I waited until Mother had gone off to do something else – maybe gone off on one of her shopping expeditions or something, I'm really not sure – then I approached Father and asked him to tell me again all of the things that he had told us earlier." Atara showed a tired smile.

"I remember the brightness of his smile that day. He was so happy that at least one of his children had not rejected his brand new Faith. So Father explained to me again what he had been told earlier that very morning, and in faith I took Jesus as my Saviour that day too.

"It was quite a sight I imagine – a new Christian trying to tell his daughter about a God he had only claimed for a few hours – a child leading a child… I will never forget that day, no matter how many years I live or how far away from that house I go."

The last phrase brought reality back to Hadassah, "We may never return home again."

Atara shrugged, "How many girls my age – or yours for that matter – can say that they saw the Arabian Desert – besides the ones who live around there?"

Hadassah laughed, "You have a point, I suppose."

"So, how long do you think they'll follow us before they decide we're not worth the trouble?"

* * *

Atara received her answer two weeks and many dusty miles later. Eventually the group pushed their pace hard enough to outdistance the hunters. Another factor that probably put their pursuers off of their trail was the ever-increasing sand that they were encountering. None of them really liked the annoying grainy dirt, but it was a necessity if they wanted to remain hidden from the hunters.

One night, when the family was sure that they were no longer being followed they gathered around the fire to discuss their options.

"We have no assurance that once we go back we will not be pursued again." Ibrahim stated. "I think we should continue going south."

"I agree. Perhaps this is God's way of moving us to where He intends for us be at this time." Hadassah added.

"Perhaps." İskender said, "But our supplies are running low and we don't know when we'll come to the next place to resupply. If we head back we know where to go." He turned to the teenager sitting beside Simay, "Atara? What do you say?"

"I get a vote?" she said brightly.

"In this group you do." İskender replied affirmatively.

The girl sat thoughtfully for a moment then said, "I know that, whatever we do, God will be with us. There are risks both ways. If we head back, we could be hunted again by the same group or even someone entirely different. If we continue on, we have no idea where we're going specifically – though there are guides I'm sure we could hire who wouldn't really care who we were as long as we paid him." She tapped her chin with her index finger and an adventurous light sparked in her eyes "I think we should continue into the desert. We've nothing to lose."

İskender nodded. "Simay, my dear, what do you think?"

His wife did not respond. İskender patted her shoulder and was rewarded by Simay jerking away from him, startled at his touch.

"Are you alright?" İskender asked, concerned.

"Oh! Oh... I am fine, İskender. I'm sorry. I was just… thinking." Simay replied.

"Do you have an opinion as to what we should do? Where we should go?" he asked again.

"I…" a pained expression crossed Simay's face. "I don't know..." she pretended to warm her hands by the fire, attempting to make everyone think she was fine. İskender was not fooled, but he let it go.

"Alright then. We'll decide in the morning." With that he dismissed the gathering.

* * *

Later that night, when everyone else was long asleep, İskender returned to the fireside. There he found his wife poking at the burning embers, staring thoughtfully into the livening flames.

He sat down quietly beside her, saying nothing, waiting for her to acknowledge him instead.

Simay let him sit there in silence for several minutes before saying, "You couldn't sleep? It's a lovely night – not too cold."

A breeze gently swirled around the two, making a few stray sparks fly out of the fire pit.

"You seemed troubled earlier." He offered.

"Earlier, when?" she replied.

"When I asked you what you thought about turning around or going on farther into the desert. I would very much value your opinion on the matter."

"I…" Simay turned her head away, "I don't have an opinion – I already said that earlier."

"I know that's what you said. The trouble is that I don't believe you." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "After all these years of trust… why do you not trust me now?"

The silence enveloped them again as İskender waited for Simay to make the decision whether or not to entrust her thoughts with him. It was obviously a difficult choice for her – something she was keeping hidden deep down inside herself.

"I don't know how to tell you…" she finally whispered.

"Just say it." he replied softly. "I'll understand."

Simay suddenly looked at him doubtfully. "I don't know that you can…"

"We'll see." He said.

"All right." Simay took a deep breath and dove in, "Before you met Malcus, Seda and I that night in the wilderness – before I even met Malcus – when I was still a little girl my mother made a pact with that awful spirit that calls itself 'Diana.'" Simay began to tremble and İskender put a steadying arm around her shoulders.

The added support gave her the courage to continue, "My mother promised that both she and one chosen daughter of every coming generation would propagate the worship of Diana. Every chosen guardian of the Diana cult would be Diana's priestess for that generation, until it was time to pass the mantle on to the next daughter.

"In return for the veneration of my mother's line – and whoever else she might convert – the demon promised to preserve the line forever…" she stopped, still shaking a bit at the memory of that distant night. "I was there when she made the pact. I was terrified…" she whispered harshly. "I wish I could forget it…" a tear rolled down her cheek and was quickly wiped away by her husband.

"You never told me…" he said quietly. "But, what does that have to do with the decision whether or not to turn around and go back home?"

Simay turned to look at him again, her eyes wide this time. "The night my mother was killed I was visited by that demon. The instructions it gave me were to go to the Arabian Desert. It was on my way there – here – that I met Malcus and Seda, and eventually you. That was over thirty years ago."

This revelation stunned İskender. "So you've been trying to come here all this time…?"

"Yes." She admitted. "Until that day at Masada when I finally trusted Jesus. That day I stopped trying to come here." She let out a quiet laugh. "Funny, isn't it? I quit trying to get here and I end up right where I stopped trying to get."

İskender nodded. "It is odd. But perhaps Diana has missed something in all this."

"What do you mean, it missed something?"

"I think that Hadassah, Ibrahim and Atara may be right about going forward into the desert."

"That's not what you said earlier though."

"No, it isn't. I just wanted them all to have a better-balanced perspective before they decided they wanted to tear out into that harsh wasteland. And I also don't want to go ahead and press on until I know that you're comfortable with going forward as well."

Simay let her hand rest on her husband's knee. "Thank you…"

"You're welcome." İskender smiled.

"You never finished what you were saying about that spirit missing something."

"Oh, yes, that." İskender directed his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "I think that, in telling you to come here, the demon made a grave error. It couldn't have known that you would choose to abandon it, but God did know. It was no accident that Diana sent you here, and it was no accident that God has led us here now." He paused. "I have never found myself more at peace than I am here and now, heading into that wasteland." He gazed out towards the dark horizon, into the sea of sand. "I asked God to send me where He would have me to go. He sent me here."

"I'm just so afraid that there's something terrible out there…" Simay whispered.

"God will take care of us – just as He always has. He brought us through a mob of renegade soldiers, the sacking of Jerusalem, the journey to and flight from Masada, and so much more. He can thwart the plans of one tiny demon – whatever they may be."

Simay and İskender sat quietly now, watching the fire glow and listening to it crackle.

"It's time to go then." Simay whispered – this time without fear. "It's time to find out what Diana so desperately wanted me to know. It's time we discovered the desert's secret."

* * *

**Chapter 20 Notes:**

* The Way – one of the names used to refer to Christianity in the first century A.D.


	24. Chapter 21: The Guardian of Diana

**Chapter 21: The Guardian of Diana**

In the morning, after the camp had been packed up, the group convened to hear what the decision about the course of their journey would be.

"Would anyone like to add to or change what they said last night?" İskender asked.

No one spoke up.

"After seeking both your counsel and God's, I believe we should…" he paused just to make the younger members of the group wait for the answer, "continue on."

The mood of the group suddenly changed from anticipation to excitement, and Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara started chattering.

"It's not getting any earlier," the Ephesian cut in, "we'd best be off."

A collective "Yes, sir!" echoed from the group as they all double checked their water and food stores and lit out across the pre-dawn desert.

İskender chuckled to himself as he watched two of his adoptive children and one grandchild pull ahead of him. He happily took up the rear of the procession, Simay at his side.

"Are you sure you're still okay with doing this?" he asked his wife.

Simay nodded, "I'm sure."

* * *

Hot days and cold nights passed, never dimming the group's enthusiasm. They continued onward, following an ever-present sense of purpose.

They came across oases, small towns, and Bedouin camps. Night after night and day after day they followed the same routine.

To Simay, this repetition only served to remind her of how much her life had changed since she had first left Ephesus all those years ago. Nothing was the same about her now. She had left her home alone and afraid, following the directions of a malevolent spirit. Now, she had left another home, but she was following a husband who loved God and listened to Him. The stark contrast was almost mesmerizing.

As the family travelled onward, Atara and Hadassah became fast friends, passing the days talking with one another about their past lives and speculating about what they would discover next on their adventure.

Ibrahim spent most of his time with his mother and step-father, rediscovering things that he had forgotten about his biological mother, and learning new things that he never had a chance to discover when he was a child.

This is not to say that Ibrahim never spent time with his sister and daughter. He did – frequently – and he discovered that he enjoyed being an older brother again as well as a father. The hardest times for him were not the lively days and evenings of travel, but the late nights when he would sit up late thinking about his wife Juliana and his other three children… As the days passed however, he learned to trust God for their safety. The one prayer that was forever in his heart now was that God would draw them to Himself in the days to come.

A few months passed this way, with the group periodically staying in one town or another, seeing the local sights – what little there were in this part of the country – and then moving on again.

However, the day arrived when the band came across a new sight. A train of camels and other desert-hearty beasts, laden with provisions and worldly goods wove its way through the blindly bright sand dunes. There were even a few animals carrying larger loads covered by blankets or large pieces of drapery. The identity of these larger items remained a mystery however.

As the family came closer to the caravan they noticed that not all of the members of the parade were of the same race. There were Ethiopians, Jews, Egyptians, Tarsians*, Germanics, Arabs, and all other imaginable ethnicities thrown into one great jumble. For the most part the different races stuck together, but there were many more independent individuals who had spread themselves out through the caravan.

The most markedly separated group of the lot was the Hebrews. They did not seem to mind their proximity to the other races, but they kept a respectable distance from them. In the midst of the company of Jews, four camels carried one of the strange covered loads. One man rode each of the supporting camels. These four men wore unremarkable garments, but woven into the fabric of the blankets adorning their steeds was the symbol of a pitcher, water flowing out from it over a pair of hands. Curiously enough, twin blue pomegranates decorated each of the camels' bridles, one hanging on either side of the animals' muzzles. The mystery was deepened by the presence of swords secured to each of the guard's belts. Obviously no one was supposed to tamper with whatever precious cargo they bore.

When İskender's group had come close enough for several of the other travelers to notice them they were hailed by someone who looked like he might have been in charge.

The man thundered towards them on a dish-faced horse, stopping artfully as he came up to them. "What brings you so far out this way?" he addressed İskender.

"We are mere travelers, like yourselves." The Ephesian replied. "We are not entirely sure what we seek."

The mounted caravan leader had been casting suspicious looks their way until he heard İskender's last words. "More summoned ones." He muttered – more to himself than to anyone on the ground – then let an evaluating eye roam the group. "You are a diverse group." He observed as he spied İskender, Hadassah and Simay's Turkish features, Ibrahim's half Hebrew face and Atara's lighter skin and hair peaking out of the scarf she wore for protection from the sun.

The leader let a contemplative look cross his face for a moment before finally deciding. "You may join us. There are those who will lend you animals so that you need not walk the entire way into the heart of this wretched place."

"We didn't really intend –" Ibrahim was shushed by a warning hand from İskender.

"We thank you for your generosity." The Ephesian said with a bow of his head.

The caravan leader nodded his acknowledgment and sent his horse tromping back through the sand to the main group.

"Where are they even going?" Ibrahim whispered harshly to İskender.

"I don't know." He replied before letting his eyes stray to meet Simay's. The look on her face was a combination of excitement and anxiety all at once.

İskender covertly took one of her hands and squeezed it reassuringly before looking back at his step-son and continuing, "God has brought us to them for a reason. Let's not abandon this now."

"But how do we know God is the one who wanted us to come here?" the younger man protested, still speaking in a lower voice.

İskender looked back at Simay again and she understood what her husband was asking of her.

"Ibrahim," she said, "I was instructed by a demon named Diana to come here when I was fifteen years old."

"Great…" her son said a bit angrily. "We're following the instructions of devils now?"

"No…" Simay replied gently. "We are not here to follow its orders."

Ibrahim looked quizzically at his mother.

"We are here to upset its plans." She finished quietly.

Understanding dawned in Ibrahim's face.

"The Eternal God is not daunted by the plans of Satan, neither is He bound by human limitations. We are short-sighted; He sees the beginning, the ending, and every portion between." İskender said. "I have recently been able to acquire a copy of a letter that the Apostle Paul himself wrote to the Roman Christians. In it he declares, 'For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, for angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'*"

The whole group quieted at those words as the Holy Spirit spoke peace to every one of their souls.

"We won't wait forever!" the caravan leader's booming voice shattered the silent moment.

İskender waved his acknowledgment and the group hurried to meet the caravan, eager to ride instead of walk for a while.

* * *

The family did not attempt to join a preexisting group. Due to their racial diversity, they never really found one that quite fit them, though every group they conversed with was quite generous to them, offering them spare supplies or water. On a whole, these were pleasant people – with the occasional odd individual here and there.

"What have these people been promised?" The question began to rise in İskender's mind.

There was only one person in the entire caravan who bristled at the family's presence. And no wonder; the middle-aged woman was a spiritist from some distant country that İskender and his band had never heard of.

When any of the family asked other members of the caravan about her they always received the same answer, "It's only Nyot. She's a bit odd, but she's no danger to anyone. Just let her be and she'll give you no trouble."

But it was almost impossible to "let her be" as the others had said. Nyot seemed to always appear at disarming moments, seemingly from nowhere.

One night, while Atara was cleaning her borrowed mount's saddle by the light of the fire and the last few rays of the sun, Nyot sat down across from the girl, startling her.

"Oh!" Atara exclaimed, almost dropping the brush she was using. "Hello."

"Hello, Atara." The woman said in a strange, low voice.

"You know my name?" the girl asked.

"I know the names of everyone in this caravan, whether they've told me or not." Nyot said with a wild look in her eye.

"Did someone tell you my name?" the teenager tested.

"A friend." Came the obtuse reply. "Do you have any friends?"

The odd question did not throw the girl off, "I have many friends; my father, my grandparents, my aunt, and One Friend Who never leaves me."

Nyot froze. "You puzzle me, child. You keep strange company; you have a foreign spirit about you. How did you get here?" The woman whispered. "This journey is only for the called ones."

"I am called." Atara countered and turned the accusation back on the spiritist. "Who called you to take this trip?"

The woman was befuddled, "I was called by the same spirit that called every one of these men, women and children to come to the heart of the desert. Her spirit came to me in a dream, in the form of a great bear. She told me, 'The one who holds my key is coming. My Guardian will guide you.'"

"So you seek the guardian of this bear spirit?" Atara asked.

"No. She seeks me."

"She? How do you know it's a 'she'?"

Nyot's eyes were lit with fire. "I know many things, child. If you are truly one of the called ones, you will not question me too much."

With that, the woman walked away.

Once Atara was sure the spiritist was gone, she hauled the half-washed saddle up and walked quickly back to the tent she shared with Hadassah.

Her aunt was already asleep – not too unusual, but it made it necessary for Atara to shake her awake again.

"Yes?" Hadassah said groggily, rubbing her eyes. "Atara? What is it?"

"Where's Grandmother?" the girl asked insistently.

"I saw her sitting around the back of her tent an hour ago, but she might be somewhere else by now."

"Alright, thanks." Atara said, leaving the saddle on her bedroll to keep her aunt company as she dropped back off to sleep.

Atara hurried around to the back of her grandparents' tent. No one was there. She quickly circled the tent, still seeing no one. She peeked her head inside the half-open tent-flap. Her grandfather's muted snoring met her ears, but her grandmother was not with him.

"Where are you?" she thought to herself as she traipsed about the camp, looking for Simay but finding no sign of her.

In desperation she headed to the oasis that the caravan had parked near for the night. The small haven was such a lovely sight: the palm trees towering above the still water, a few plants growing here and there around the life-giving pool. No one drew water at this time of day. Everyone was back at camp sleeping, talking or finishing a late meal.

Atara looked around the area and started to head back when she heard something coming from one of the far palms.

She sneaked up to the tree carefully, not wanting to let whatever was there know that she was coming.

"You brought us here. You saw to it that we were taken in. You opened a door for us to step through…" the voice floated to Atara on a desert breeze. "Thou art my fortress, my shield, my hiding place. Thou art my light when I find myself in the dark. Thou art my salvation from every evil that would seek to entrap me. Thou art mine atonement for the sin I can never pay for. Thou art my song in this dark night."

The voice said no more, so Atara rounded the trunk of the tree to see who was speaking and came almost face-to-face with her grandmother.

"Hello, Atara." Simay smiled, "What brings you out here?"

"I was looking for you." The teenager replied. "There's something I need to tell you about. It's about Nyot and the caravan."

"Sit down." Simay patted the sand beside her.

Atara obliged her grandmother and sat, then she related everything that the spiritist had told her, down to the last detail.

"You were right to come to me." Simay said, looking almost overwhelmed. "I need to speak with your grandfather about this tonight."

"It's that serious?" the girl asked.

"Very." Simay replied. "Come; let's get back to the caravan."

The pair returned to the main group as quickly as they could manage through the shifting desert. Simay sent Atara to her shared tent instructing her granddaughter not to wake either her aunt or her father who was sleeping behind the tent.

"When your grandfather and I have talked, we will wake you all and tell you what we've decided."

Atara obeyed.

Several painful hours passed as the girl waited for her grandparents to hash out what was going on and what they should do about it.

Finally, the wait was over and her grandparents appeared at the tent flap, her father in tow as they all squeezed into Atara and Hadassah's tent, each one taking a seat on the ground before Ibrahim reached out and tapped his sister on the back.

Atara's aunt started awake. "What?" she whispered, "what's going on now?"

"We've gotten some new information that we need to discuss. Quietly." İskender said.

Hadassah got up carefully and took a seat in the empty space that had been left for her in the tight circle.

"Now," İskender began, "as I've said, we've learned something new tonight. Atara was approached by the woman Nyot."

No one spoke.

İskender continued. "Nyot told Atara who sent all of these people here to the desert. She said that a 'bear spirit'," İskender looked to Atara for confirmation; the girl nodded, "told her 'The one who holds my key is coming. My Guardian will guide you.'"

Hadassah and Ibrahim looked at İskender in confusion.

Simay continued the announcement, "My children… you do not know much about my past. There was a day, before I took Jesus as my Lord that I followed another power. " she looked at her son, "Ibrahim, when you were little, do you ever remember a silver statue of a bear?"

"No… I – Yes! I vaguely remember, now that you mention it, but the memory is so foggy that I don't really remember too much about it."

"You were quite young at the time," Simay nodded before turning her gaze to her daughter, "Hadassah, you never knew what it was like to grow up with an idolatrous mother. For that I am thankful."

"Idolatrous?" Hadassah asked.

"Your mother was a follower of a spirit that calls itself 'Diana' – the one she mentioned just before we joined this caravan." İskender explained. "But the spirit betrayed her in the end and, through its host, tried to kill her." he paused. "The demon failed because your father – your real father, Malcus – got in its way."

"That's why you never wanted to talk about it…" Hadassah whispered. "He died saving you from the one you claimed to follow."

Simay nodded as tears began to fall from her eyes. "He gave himself for me; he is the one who God used to finally show me the reality of my sin and the payment Jesus made in my place… But I could never tell you about him without revealing my dark past… I didn't know what you would think of me."

"You're my mother, and I love you." Hadassah stated. "It doesn't matter to me what you've done in the past."

"You don't know how much that means to me." Simay replied, reaching over to hug her daughter.

"The same goes for me, Mother." Ibrahim said equally quietly as he lent his own hug.

İskender smiled broadly, waiting for the exchange to end before bringing the conversation back to the reality at hand. "Nyot is waiting for the Guardian of Diana. Your mother – and grandmother" he nodded to Atara, "was the second such Guardian before she changed her allegiance."

"So… who's the third?" Hadassah asked.

"The Guardian would have to be a female descendant of the previous Guardian." Simay said, eyes still red from her earlier tears. "I have three children: you Hadassah, Ibrahim, and Seda, your other sibling."

"I _knew_ I remembered a different sister." Ibrahim interjected. "So who is she? Where is she?"

"I don't know." Simay said, downcast.

"You don't know?" Ibrahim probed.

"She was stolen from me by my friend, Seda's namesake… the same one who Diana used to try to kill me."

"Nice friend." Hadassah mumbled.

"In light of what Nyot said, we can hope that your other sister will find her way here to the caravan, or to the heart of the desert, our final destination." İskender said. "But, in the mean time, we must all be wary. Do not reveal to anyone that we are Christians. It could be dangerous for now."

The rest of the group acknowledged their agreement.

"Let's all get back our tents – or bedrolls – before anyone thinks too much about this meeting."

The group dispersed quickly and silently.

* * *

Three days later, the caravan stopped inexplicably, trailing down a huge sand dune.

İskender's group made their way to the front of the train to see what was happening and find out how long it might be before they could expect to move again.

Upon nearing the top of the dune, they saw the leader of the train staring down at something, silently grasping his horse's reins. The look on the man's face seemed to be somewhere between horror and disbelief

İskender, not knowing what was going on, went the last few yards to the top of the sandy mountain. He gazed out over the top of the dune and down into a valley. The sight nearly knocked him over.

"Simay!" he called, "Come see this!"

His wife came quickly to his side and looked down from the perch. Her mind and heart began to reel as she looked down on the valley.

Pilgrims from every tongue and nation were spread out across the sands, numbering in the thousands. There were men, women, children, livestock, and tents everywhere. The small multitude seemed to go on for a solid mile, sprawling across the sands.

"I think we found it." İskender whispered, pointing beyond the human flood towards an entrance in a towering spiral of rock, swirling up from the desert floor.

The entrance glowed with an unearthly green light.

* * *

**Chapter 21was inspired by:**

- "He Gave Himself for Me" by Troy Carlson & Julie Jones Potter, arranged by Julie Jones Potter, found on the Bill Rice Ranch CD "Show Me, Lord"

**References:  
**- jcam dotorg/Pages/Foundation/cemeterysymbols dothtm

- _The Holy Bible_: _Exodus_. Zondervan. 1976.

**Notes:**

* Tarsians – people from Tarshish, located around the modern Portugal/Spain border

* Romans 8:38-39


	25. Intermission 3

**Intermission**

"Sir?" Masterson's voice cut into Desslok's alternate reality.

"What?" he said, a bit less agitated than Masterson had expected him to be.

"It's almost two in the morning. I must be getting home."

The prince shrugged. "Go on then." He shooed his friend out the door without a word of protest.

As he walked one door down to his family's quarters Masterson's brow furrowed. Was that fatigue he had seen in the prince's face? Genuine tiredness? He'd never seen that on Desslok's face before.

* * *

When the door had sealed, signaling Masterson's departure the prince let out a sigh. Would this never cease? Would his mother – though beyond the grave – never stop trying to persuade him of her Faith? The Guardiana followers were beyond dangerous. How could one insignificant religious group unseat a militant cult?

He shook his head, a wave of tiredness washing over him for the first time in days. Perhaps he would sleep tonight – a rare luxury these days. Too many thoughts were jumbled in his mind. In order to unravel them he would have to let his subconscious work.

He carefully retrieved the tiny message capsule from its current perch, crossed the room, and set it on the unoccupied bed before preparing to spend the night in slumber instead of restless pacing. Before he got into bed he tucked his mother's last gift to him into a small hidden pocket on the clothes he had donned for the night – just in case the device's existence needed concealing.

Before he realized he was losing consciousness he was asleep. Then he remembered why he hated entering this state of unaware hyper-subconsciousness. There were far too many memories here, but not only memories – dreams and fears also lived here – things he saw night after night that he wished he could forget. He saw the deaths of so many – friends, enemies, loved ones, strangers. Rapha'owr was at peace now, but it had not always been so. The city of healing light had once needed healing of its own. The uprising against his father, Deun right after Talonka's death had wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting city. Its beautiful streets, gleaming towers, forested parks, crystal streams had been polluted with blood. That was when the Guardiana followers had amassed here in the capitol. That was when the jihad had begun – when his family had been targeted for destruction by those zealots.

When the first amulet-bearing soldier had breached the palace walls, the prince had known that his life would never be the same again. That was when he had learned to be always aware of everything. He'd picked up computer hacking and communications jamming along with a healthy dose of learning how to build several breeds of weapons from scratch.

His paranoia was warranted. He knew that someday – whether it be today or another day – they would come for him. When that hour was upon him, he had vowed to himself that he would be ready and they would be sorry that they had ever considered him a target.

Desslok's mind raced around the cluttered landscape of the thoughts he had collected since last he had slept, trying to make sense of them all at once. Then, abruptly, his mind skidded to a sudden halt as it called up another memory – distant but distinct – a memory he hated because it plagued him to this day and he had yet to understand it.

_His father stood with his handgun at the ready, a short sword clenched in his other hand, ready to either shoot or cut down anyone who would try to come through him._

"_Desslok!" his twin whispered intently. "Get back here, you want them to see you!?"_

_The younger prince waved a dismissive hand back towards his brother who was crouched low farther back in the hiding place their father had unceremoniously tossed them into just before the zealots had beaten down the door, Besides, those strange warriors hadn't even so much as cast one glance in this direction. If worse came to worst, he and his brother could always slip out through the plentiful air ducts that dotted the upper walls and ceiling of every room in the palace, including this one._

_Desslok's gaze was still on his father as the Leader stood bravely between the enemy and his offspring. Certainly his father was done for. Ten enemy soldiers were staring him down. There was seemingly no way out of this one._

_One of the soldiers stepped forward, letting his weapon drop to his side in a show of temporary peace. Then he spoke. "You've taken our hope away from us!"_

_There was smoldering silence surrounding the Leader before he spoke. "I've taken nothing – you're the ones who've done the taking!" his father snarled at the soldier._

"_We only did what we had to do." Came the cold reply._

"_Taking a loved one from someone else is seldom justifiable. Taking them to fulfill some unrighteous religious end is doubly condemnable. May Adonai Himself strike you down for what you have done." Deun seethed._

"_Do not get self-righteous with us, Leader," he spat the title at Deun, "You do no even follow your own Torah. At least we deign to obey the mandates of the faith _we _profess." He gave the Leader an evil grin._

"_She was not yours to take! Curse that snake my love called her mother! Curse all of you for condemning your own faith to become heirless, but do not lay that transgression at my feet, devil worshiper! I'll not bear the blame for something you yourselves have done!"_

_The passion in his father's voice stunned Desslok. Never had he ever heard his father speak this way or refer to his mother in such overtly endearing terms. The prince sensed in his heart that this was a glimpse of the man his father had once been… many years ago… _

"_We will see who is cursed, leader of fools." The soldier declared before pointing his gun straight at Deun's already broken heart. Just as he was about to pull the trigger the palace guards swarmed in, mowing down the zealots, beginning with the one who was standing before the ruler of Gamilon._

_Leader Deun's impassioned face melted back into stoicism._

* * *

The morning dawned brightly, breaking through some of the darkness that the prince had spent the night sifting through.

"Nothing could make this day darker than it already is…" he thought as he sat up in his bed, dreading to leave it. Then another thought returned to him and he smacked himself in the forehead, wondering how he could have forgotten about the exam he was expected to pass in roughly an hour and a half. Cursed tests. Who decided that students had to take language exams anyway?

It was no use denying it, Masterson had been right about him needing to take more time to study the night before, but he arguably had had more important things to sort out. Not that Admiral Talan would accept that as an excuse – he never accepted excuses, not from him or from Masterson. The Admiral had said once, "An excuse is merely the skin of reason stuffed with a lie." Ever since then the prince hadn't dared offer any excuses.

"Computer," he said hesitantly, "the time, please."

"It is zero six twelve hours." The female voice droned in reply. "Report to the testing room in one hour, eighteen minutes."

"I didn't ask for the second part, Mintrael*."

"I am aware, sir." The computer replied.

"You always give me more than I ask for." The prince rebuked the A.I.

"'Better too much information than too little.'"

"Quoting me will get you nowhere, Mintrael."

"I know, sir."

"Good." the prince slid out of bed and with one last longing look abandoned thoughts of rest for those of preparing for the day ahead. "Make sure the water is hot;" he chided the computer, and then added under his breath, "I've got a few stray thoughts I need burned away this morning…"

* * *

Surprisingly the test was less painful than he expected it to be. Perhaps the night of sleep had done him some good after all. Masterson had still outscored him by an embarrassing margin, but the prince had passed well within an acceptable percentage range. The Admiral nodded in approval as both Desslok and Masterson left the room. Both young men were silently rejoicing that they would not have to return to their formal studies for two months. During the break they would focus more on the hands-on skill sets they needed to continue developing: hand-to-hand combat, piloting, target practice, running through the woods like idiots trying to lose the guards assigned to tail them.

Breaks for the two teenagers were irregular and much anticipated. Neither young man thoroughly hated his studies, truth be told, they both rather enjoyed the mental gymnastics, but, as with all things, it did get old after a while.

On rare occasions, breaks meant excursions to outlying worlds with Masterson and the Admiral, and since Leader Deun didn't seem to really care what his younger son did these days no one protested when Desslok tagged along with the Talan men for couple months of "off-world exploration" – otherwise known as camping.

"The usual place?" Masterson asked as they walked more slowly than usual down the deserted palace halls.

"If you want." The prince shrugged.

"I'll meet you there, sir."

Desslok nodded and continued his slow progress as Masterson disappeared down a connecting hallway.

The prince did not have any fondness for this tradition that the two of them had begun five years ago, but he honored it for Masterson's sake. The prince did not understand his friend's fascination with the sight at all.

* * *

"Has it begun yet?" the prince asked as he sat down beside Masterson on a small hill overlooking the Temple of Adonai as a host of people crowded within the allotted space inside the walls of the structure. Many more, waiting outside the walls watched the proceedings via holographic projection.

This scene would be played in every city, town and village across the entire planet.

"He has only just begun to cast the lots for the goats. You haven't missed much."

"Why does all this have to be such a bloody ritual?" the prince muttered.

"Because without the shedding of blood… there can be no remission of sin –"

"I know, I know." The prince held up a staying hand, "You've said it before. 'The people still believe that Messiah is yet to come, so they still perform this ritual every year.'"

"You're going to miss it." Masterson said, looking back on the scene unfolding inside the Temple.

"I rather wish I _would_ miss it…" Desslok said so that Masterson could not hear him.

The high priest – the only officiator for Yom Kippur* – drew lots to designate the two young he-goats before him as either Yehovah* or Azazel.*

The Azazel goat received a piece of red cloth tied around his horn; the goat that was to be the sacrifice received one around his neck.

The priest then retrieved some of the blood from the sin offering he had made for himself and his family before casting the lots. The holy man turned and entered the Makom Kadosh,* taking some of the burning coals from the altar found in this first inner portion of the biet mikdash* and placed them into his censor. The high priest poured incense onto the small altar and into the censor he was carrying. The sweet smoke rose from both censor and altar, filling the innermost part of the house where the Kapporeth was. Once the cloud had utterly filled the rooms, the holy man continued his journey into the house of Adonai, stepping through the veil and into the Kodesh HaKadashim*

The projections outside the Temple walls and one inside it showed everything as it unfolded inside the innermost part of the house of Adonai. Despite the all-encompassing smoke, onlookers could see the priest as he took the blood from the sacrifice and sprinkled it on and before the Kapporeth* seven times. After he had done this he left the Kodesh HaKadashim, his white linen garments standing in stark contrast with his azure skin tone.

The prince and Masterson looked on as the second sacrifice was made – the goat upon which the lot of Yehovah had fallen – and the high priest returned to the Kodesh HaKadashim one last time to sprinkle the blood of the goat upon the Kapporeth seven times. After this blood cleansing the priest reemerged from the inner biet mikdash and performed a second cleansing of the altar he had used for the sacrifices.

Then, as the two young men watched, the priest laid his hands on the head of the Azazel goat and confessed the sins of the people, begging Adonai for His mercy upon them all despite their sins against Him. Then the man led the goat he had just prayed over out to the outermost gate of the temple and handed it off to a hired foreigner who would oversee the banishment of the animal into the wilderness, symbolically sending away the sins of the entire nation.

After all of this the final sacrifices of the atonement day were made – the burnt offerings for the priest and for the people. The final ceremonial washings and cleansings were completed within the hour and then the people dispersed from the Temple courtyard, going back to their work, their homes, and their lives.

As soon at the ceremony was over Desslok stood up and turned to leave, but Masterson's voice stopped him.

"You're not going to stay and watch?"

"Watch?" he turned back to Masterson, "Watch what? Everything's over for another year. Thankfully." He whispered the last word.

"The incense cloud." The Admiral's son replied, "it hasn't dissipated yet."

"It's a cloud, Masterson, just like any other cloud."

"It's a cloud, yes. But it's not _just_ a cloud. The ceremony may be needless now, but it still represents truth, my friend. That cloud fills the Temple as the very Shekinah glory of Adonai once filled it… centuries ago."

The prince sat back down slowly, looking more thoughtfully at the scene before them as the smoke continued to dissipate over the course of the next hour. The two friends were silent, but it was a comradely silence.

* * *

Later in the day, when Desslok and Masterson had returned to the palace the prince looked at his ever-present friend and asked, "It all really means something to you, doesn't it?"

"It does. Not the same thing it means to the followers of the Torah though."

The prince shook his head. "I'll never understand you, Masterson."

Masterson smiled, "Maybe one day you will understand."

The prince didn't bother to argue. Every time they had this conversation – every year on the Day of Atonement – Masterson would tell him the same thing, "Maybe one day you will understand." Thus far, Masterson's prediction had not come to pass.

"We should get back to that history of yours now, I suppose." Masterson said.

"We should." Desslok nodded.

If Masterson hadn't known better he would have said that the prince had a hint of dread in his face. He started to ask but thought better of prying and let the subject vanish entirely.

* * *

Fifteen minutes and a rushed meal later, the two found themselves again seated in the prince's suite, facing the rematerializing image of Talonka.

"So you have returned again." The queen said with a smile, "I trust you do not find this telling too fantastic to believe, my son. Bear with me for just a little while longer and I promise you will understand."

The look on the prince's face was hesitant now.

"She wouldn't have left it for you if she thought there was a chance it could be lies." Masterson encouraged. "She left you the truth. I don't doubt that – you shouldn't either." He paused, then added, "Besides, reality is often more unbelievable than any work of fiction."

The doubt in Desslok's face seemed to lift somewhat at this and he addressed the hologram. "We are ready to continue."

* * *

**Intermission Notes:**

* Mintrael – an artificial intelligence made by Desslok – his partner in crime when Masterson is unavailable or unwilling to participate  
* Yom Kippur – The Day of Atonement – an annual holy day when the sins of the entire nation are atoned for, traditionally celebrated on the tenth day of the seventh month  
* Yehovah – the goat chosen to be the sacrifice  
* Azazel – the scapegoat  
* Makom Kadosh – Holy Place – the part of the Temple of God immediately outside the Kodesh HaKadashim  
* biet mikdash – used here to refer to the physical building the Temple as opposed to the entirety of the Temple grounds  
* Kodesh HaKadashim – Holy of Holies – the innermost part of the Temple of God  
* Kapporeth – mercy seat

**References:**

- Cooper, Dr. David L. "The Ritualism of the Great Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur." Ariel dotorg/dic/dic-sma-17 dothtm.

- Dankenbring, William F. "Who or What Is the 'AZAZEL' Goat?" triumphpro dotcom /Azazel-goat dothtm.

- "Day of Atonement Sequence of Events." Morningside dotws/dayofatonement dothtm.

- _The Holy Bible: Leviticus_. Zondervan. 1976.

- The Tabernacle Place, Various articles. The-tabernacle-place dotcom/articles/what_is_the_tabernacle.


	26. Chapter 22: King of the Fallen Angels

**Chapter 22: King of the Fallen Angels**

"Don't just stand and stare," the caravan leader cut into İskender and Simay's stunned world. "Get back to your places so that we can get everyone into the camp before the sun sets."

İskender nodded and turned to motion for his charges to also obey the order. Unbeknownst to him, Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara had come to stand just behind him and Simay. When he turned around to relay the order he was greeted by a trio of stunned faces staring down into the multitude-filled valley.

"We'll talk about it later." He whispered to the three. "We have to get back before he suspects something's really wrong with us being here. Because, in case you didn't notice," İskender glanced around at the men and women who had joined them at the lip of the valley, "we're the only ones who look stunned by this."

The group quickly obeyed and soon all five of them had returned to their spot towards the back of the caravan, pretending to be just as nonchalant as the rest of the members of the train were.

It was a surprisingly hard task, and more than once Atara caught herself frowning in concentration trying to make sense of what she had seen. Her father as well had to make sure that he didn't look too serious about the sight they'd just witnessed. Hadassah seemed to be fairing the best of the three younger members of the group. She had plastered an innocent smile on her face and was chatting away unconcernedly with several of the women who were with the group directly behind them.

İskender carefully made his way around to all of the members of his little band, whispering the same message to them all as inconspicuously as possible, "Watch everything."

As the caravan filed into the narrow pass that served as an entrance into the valley of sand and rock, five sets of eyes studied the landscape, the people, the animals, the cargo. For the most part nothing suspicious seemed to be happening. People were splitting off from the main group when they found a campsite they favored or discovered another group of people from the same part of the world.

Everything seemed to be going completely normally. The only strange sight remained that odd green glow coming from inside the huge rock in the center of the gathering.

As İskender's group passed the gigantic rock however, Atara spied movement out of the corner of her eye. She quickly turned her eyes towards the disturbance without moving her head too much in that direction. She didn't want to alert whoever it was that she had noticed them.

What she saw caused a sliver of fear to snake through her gut. The woman Nyot was slipping into the fissure in the rock. No one else seemed to notice her – not even her grandparents or her aunt – all three of which were in a position to have seen the spiritist's movements.

Knowing that she had to do something quickly, Atara snagged her aunt's sleeve.

"What is it, Atara?" Hadassah asked, looking back at her niece.

"I have to go. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Where are you going?"

"There." Atara pointed to the opening the in rock's face.

"No. Atara –" Hadassah was too late to stop the younger girl. If she ran after the teenager she would garner suspicion. Better to let the girl do what she thought she needed to at that juncture and correct her rash behavior when she returned.

* * *

Atara made it across the space separating her and the opening without drawing too much attention to herself. Everyone else seemed to be focusing on bedding down for the night or watering their animals.

The sun was starting to sink low on the horizon and she knew it would be getting dark fairly soon. Why did she always have to be around Nyot at night? The woman was frightening enough without having the added veil of darkness to complicate things.

Atara scooted into the opening quickly, seeming to disappear instantly inside the rock. The glow inside was not overly bright and, upon closer examination, the teenager discovered that the light was being emitted from nothing stranger than a hundred colonies of fungus that had made their home in this tunnel.

The mystery of the light now solved, Atara continued carefully and quietly after Nyot down the tunnel. One thing however did still nag at her. The color of the light the little organisms were putting off was like nothing she had ever seen before. She tucked the thought away into the back of her mind for the time being. She had a spiritist to tail.

A scarce five minutes into her journey Atara began to hear voices coming from somewhere ahead of her. She stopped immediately, trying to decipher the words. To her dismay she was still too far away to make out what was being said, so she inched her way down the tunnel, ever closer to the conversation.

The girl rounded a corner and almost walked right into the room the voices were coming from. She caught herself quickly and flung her body back around the corner, hoping that whoever was in the room had not seen her.

Atara listened over the loud pounding of her heart. One voice was undeniably that of Nyot. The other voice – When she stopped and listened to it her blood ran cold; her heart felt as though it would jump out of her tightening chest. The presence she sensed in that room was so oppressive that she nearly ran from the sight back to the safety of the sandy valley.

Just when she thought she could stomach no more of the evil voice an almost tangible Presence of peace settled upon her, enabling her to concentrate on what was being said and granting her the courage and strength to continue her secret vigil.

"She is not here yet." Nyot's voice was irritated.

"Do not be so impatient, child." The voice – it sounded like a man – though pleasant in tone, oozed evil. "The guardian will appear soon. I have informed the spirit she serves that the guardian's presence is needed here."

"Yes, great Lightbearer." Nyot sounded elated this time.

"Nyot." The other voice said in a commanding tone.

"Master?" the spiritist responded reverently.

"You will be ready to receive the Guardian and her aide. They will be here soon."

"How soon, Lightbearer?"

"You question me?" the voice grew threatening.

"No! No, Master! Never would I question you." Nyot sounded as though she were cowering.

"You do not need to know everything I plan to do with these people. You do not need to know what will happen in the next minute if I do not wish you to know."

"Yes, of course, my Master." Nyot cowed.

"The Guardian will come soon. That is all you need to know." The voice replied, an edge still evident in the tone.

Atara couldn't resist one little peak into the room beyond. Now seemed like as safe a time as any to find out who this "Lightbearer" was. He must be terrifying if Nyot was afraid to defy him. Perhaps if Atara could find out who he was, she and her family could be better prepared for their stay in this valley – however long they were here.

The girl edged ever so slowly around the corner, her eyes and ears aware of everything around her. Her senses were on hyper-alert when she finally was able to peek around the rock wall separating her from the room beyond.

The cavern was on the small size – not tiny, but not anywhere close to being called large. Nyot stood in the very center of the room, a circle of the glowing fungus surrounding her feet so as to cast minimal light onto her.

The fear that Atara had felt upon first arriving at the entrance to this room returned with a vengeance. It would have drowned her had the comforting Presence not supported her through the wave of terror that collapsed over her. There was no one else in the room with the spiritist. Empty. Every corner, every ledge, every wall was entirely empty.

While she was peering into the room the voice of Nyot's "master" spoke again.

"If there are any spies from the Enemy within the camp, you must find them and kill them before the Guardian comes. We cannot lose her to Him. He has thrown enough surprises in our faces to last a thousand human years."

Atara's eyes widened and she instantly darted back around the corner, desperately trying to find cover from the pure evil she had just felt in that voice. That was when she realized that she was trembling.

"Father, help me to not be afraid of whatever's in there with her." Atara prayed in her heart. "There is no evil that can ever overcome You. Help me to remember that."

"There are no –" Nyot stopped midsentence and Atara heard footsteps heading her way. Not wanting to be discovered, she lit out of the tunnel as quickly as she could without making her footsteps echo through the rock.

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the burden of that evil presence lifted from her spirit and she felt light again. Then she began weaving her way through the campsites looking for her family.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the teenager, the conversation had resumed in the secret room.

"She is gone." The Lightbearer seethed.

Nyot cowered beneath his enraged presence.

"How did she know you were here?" her Master's voice lost any semblance of gentleness.

"I – I –" the spiritist stammered.

"You have grown careless." Her Master growled.

"Please, don't kill me." Nyot pleaded, "It will not happen again."

There was a chilling silence.

"You will have my mercy this one time, little human. But know that if you fail again, you will never see another day dawn and you will feel the fires of my realm licking at your tormented flesh for all of eternity."

"I'll do anything you say, Lightbearer" Came the terrified reply.

"Good." the voice purred sickly. "Now go and bear the message I bring to the human race."

"What about that girl, Master?"

"What did I tell you before about the Enemy's spies?"

"I will make sure they do not trouble you again, Master." Nyot bowed low before her invisible lord.

When there was no reply Nyot took it as a sign to leave the meeting place. She left the confines of the towering rock, this time much more wary of what was going on around her. It was a bit simpler this time, now that darkness had almost completely fallen over the multitude and many were already asleep for the night.

The spiritist began to roam the entire camp, searching for one group, specifically, one girl – the strange one who liked to clean saddles…

* * *

Atara finally found her family's chosen campsite. They had pitched camp far to the north of the large rock. It relieved the girl to know that they would not be sleeping on the front door of whatever was meeting with Nyot at the end of that glowing tunnel.

The teenager whisked aside the flap of the tent she still shared with Hadassah. She almost screamed when someone grabbed her forearm.

"Atara?" Hadassah's voice whispered harshly. "Is that you?"

"Yes. It's only me. You can let me go now." The girl replied.

Her aunt breathed a deep sigh of relief and let go of the captured arm.

"Never run off like that again." She chided.

"Oh… I won't." the girl said, wide-eyed. "I found more than I bargained for."

Hadassah looked at her niece blankly. "What exactly did you find in there, Atara?" the concern was evident in her aunt's voice.

"I need to get everyone together again so that I can tell you all. The longer we stay with this group, the more dangerous it could be for us."

"Wait here." Hadassah whispered.

A few minutes later the family was again seated in a cramped circle inside Hadassah and Atara's tent.

The girl relayed the entire event to them all, every detail she could remember, even the feeling of terror she had had upon reaching the room.

İskender and Simay looked at each other knowingly and Hadassah put a supportive hand on one of Atara's shoulders; Ibrahim laid his own supportive hand on her other shoulder.

"My daughter…" her father began. "Tonight you saw the enemy – face to face: spirit to spirit. And God sustained you."

"The enemy? What do you mean?" Atara asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Tonight," her grandfather continued, "you were in the presence of the 'Lightbearer' – Lucifer as he is better known."

Atara gasped. "You mean that was," she pointed animatedly towards the rock spiral, "that was the Devil himself?"

All four of her family nodded to her.

Tears began to form in the girl's eyes. "I never want to do that again as long as I live."

Hadassah gave her niece a comforting hug. "God protected you. He always will. Nothing can harm you – not even the king of the fallen angels."

"I know." Atara said through her tears. "I just can't bear the thought of ever being that close to him again. He's pure evil…"

"I'm proud of you for staying long enough to find out what you did." Ibrahim's voice met his daughter's ears and she gave him a grateful smile in return.

"We're all thankful for what you did tonight." Simay offered.

Then, İskender 's quiet voice added, "May God protect us all."


	27. Chapter 23: In the Name of the Holy One

**Chapter 23: In the Name of the Holy One**

With the darkness serving as her shield, Nyot slipped invisibly through the camp, looking into every tent flap and peeking into every sleeping face. No one woke. No one even seemed to be aware of her presence – her Master's doing she knew. When she finally came upon those spies of the enemy they would undoubtedly wake. The Spirit within them would sense the lingering presence of her Master. This would be the spies undoing.

As the spiritist continued through the vast array of small campsites, she was led inexorably in one direction – north. Every step she took drew her closer to a disturbing Presence and she began to become uneasy. She knew she was close to the spies' camp. The saddle-cleaning girl was one of them, she knew. There was no mistaking this. That girl had been the one who was listening in on her conversation with the great Lightbearer.

Nyot despised the Enemy and his minions. What did they think they were accomplishing? The Lightbearer would triumph over Him. Her Master would bring the truth to the world – that the Enemy was an intolerant, hateful Being Who only wished to use people to satisfy His own ends.

The woman had given up trying to understand such unreasonable people many years ago. They were not worth her time. The only reason she sought them out was upon her Master's orders – usually orders to exterminate them.

This night was no different of course. Every time she got near enough to the followers of the Enemy she would be enveloped by the Presence of His Spirit. Sometimes she succeeded in her quest to destroy the Enemy spies, but many times she failed.

On those occasions of failure she would slink back to her Master in shame, begging his forgiveness. The Lightbearer was many things, but forgiving was not one of them. Nyot was always punished for her failure, but not so severely that she had ever harbored thoughts of deserting her Master.

Now, on this night, Nyot knew that if she failed, there would be greater consequences than some servants of the Enemy escaping. If she failed… her Master's plans would have to change drastically. As of now he would be able to have this group of pilgrims to himself – with no interference from the Enemy.

She continued on through the tents, feeling her way through the darkness to that one tent – at least she hoped that it was only one tent – where the servant or servants were sleeping. Her feet were guided to the entrance of a particularly unremarkable tent. To Nyot's dismay, there was a second one pitched right next to it. She abandoned her hope for a quick, clean kill or two. The second tent meant that there were at least two or three more of them.

Before entering the first of the two tents that stank of the Enemy she made a silent circle around them both. To her surprise she nearly fell over an additional member of the party. A man was sleeping out behind the second tent – a guard? Thankfully he did not wake when her shoe caught the edge of his bedroll. If he was a guard, then he was a poor one. She carefully avoided making any more sound after that.

Nyot's silent feet padded through the sand and up to the entrance of the second tent – the one with the sleeping guard. Her hand was poised to open the flap. She carefully uncased the dagger she kept with her. She pushed the flap open, blade raised.

* * *

Hadassah started awake at the sound of the tent flap opening. Her eyes widened when she saw the figure of a woman entering the tent, a dagger in her hand. Knowing that panic was the worst thing she could do, Hadassah slowly reached over to the knife she always kept handy in case of emergencies. She started to draw the knife, but before she took the blade out she looked closely at the woman who had entered their tent. The more Hadassah looked at the intruder the more the woman looked confused.

Suddenly Hadassah realized who the intruder was – the spiritist that Atara had told them all about – Nyot. What was Nyot doing here? Did she intend to kill them all as they slept? Judging from the drawn blade and the look of inexplicable and utter consternation on her face, that was exactly what she had come for.

So what was stopping the woman?

As Hadassah continued to stare Nyot looked all around the tent, staring first at Atara's still-sleeping form, then looking straight at Hadassah, seeming to look right through her – as if Hadassah weren't even there.

After several moments of confused silence Nyot left the tent, circling around the back where Ibrahim was sleeping.

Hadassah's eyes followed the woman's shadow as she went around the tent. She could make out the distinct form of her brother's body as he slept on the ground back behind the tent.

Hadassah watched as Nyot's form stood over Ibrahim for a minute. Then the spiritist turned and left, not even bothering to enter İskender and Simay's tent.

When she was sure that Nyot was long gone Hadassah shook her niece awake.

"Huh?" the girl asked groggily, eyes half-closed.

"Atara, you'll never guess what just happened."

* * *

"They were _what_?!" the Lightbearer bellowed.

"Gone, Master." Nyot cowered.

"They were gone." He seethed. "You expect me to believe that they just left their tents and belongings and simply disappeared?"

"That is what happened, great Lightbearer." Nyot said in a tiny voice.

"That is what He wanted you to think, stupid human!" he chastised. "He blinded you! Can't you see that?!"

"He – He was too –"

"Too _what_? Chose your next words carefully, servant." The Lightbearer growled.

Nyot was going to use the word "powerful," but checked herself in time, "He was too… crafty… for me, Master. He tricked me."

"I've warned you about this before, Nyot." Her Master rumbled. "Kill them! I don't care how you do it, but I want it done before the setting of the sun tomorrow!"

"Y-yes, great Lightbearer." Nyot's fearful voice bounced around the almost-dark cavern.

"Why do you just stand there? I said 'go!'" the command struck the spiritist like a blow to the chest and, in fear for her very life this time, she ran.

* * *

"She was here!" Hadassah whispered excitedly.

"Who?" Atara was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"That spiritist. Nyot I think you said her name was."

"But she would have done something to us if she had found us." The teenager protested.

"If she could." Hadassah said, a hint of mystery in her voice.

"Stop talking in riddles, please. I'm not awake yet." Atara protested quietly.

"You said that Nyot would have done something to us. I think that's a fair assumption. But what if, when she got in here she discovered that she _couldn't_ do anything?"

"You mean like her hand fell off or something?" Atara replied, half-jokingly.

"In a way." Hadassah replied. "I wish you could have seen the look on her face. She looked right through me, like I wasn't even – there…" The truth dawned on her like a blinding light at midnight. "She couldn't see us, Atara." Hadassah gripped her niece's shoulders excitedly. "She couldn't see any of us!" Smiling in delight and utter relief she flew out of bed, dragging Atara with her. The two first awoke Ibrahim sleeping outside on his bedroll, then all three flooded into İskender and Simay's tent.

"Mother! Father!" Hadassah gently shook the other two members of their party.

The sleeping pair awoke swiftly, expecting to have to fly into action.

"Something's happened." Hadassah continued. "Something wonderful."

* * *

With the revelation of the events of the night, all five of İskender's little band slept peacefully through the rest of the pre-dawn hours not having to wonder whether or not they would awake in the morning. The overwhelming evidence of God's protection was more than enough to see them through.

Just before the dawn came, just prior to the time the group was to rise, someone reentered the area around the two tents. İskender, who had risen earlier than his charges saw the figure creeping through the shadows, coming closer and closer to the tent that Hadassah and Atara shared.

Out of curiosity İskender walked quietly up behind the intruder.

He was not surprised to find that it was Nyot again. The woman simply would not give up.

Just then İskender stepped on a small piece of something unidentifiable. Whatever it was made a crackling sound.

"Who's there?!" Nyot's startled whisper broke through the silence. The spiritist whirled around, looking in any and all directions. Then she started muttering to herself.

İskender was standing a mere six feet behind the woman. Even someone with poor eyesight would have seen him.

"Praise be to the Most High God, for He has truly delivered us from our enemy who would seek to destroy us." He whispered.

This time Nyot gave no indication that she had heard anything. She just kept walking towards the targeted tent. The intruder burst through the tent flap, drawing her knife as she did.

İskender waited outside the tent, knowing that whatever Nyot did she would never be able to harm his daughter and granddaughter.

Suddenly a horrible scream rose from within the tent. The next instant Nyot was barreling out, yelling something about ghosts at the top of her lungs and looking like she had just been scared out of what little wits she still had.

The next thing İskender heard was stifled giggling.

"Girls?"

"Yes, Father?" came the answer punctuated by laughter from both his daughter and granddaughter.

"What did you do to her?"

"Nothing really." Atara replied this time, tying the tent flap open so that İskender could see both of them. "She came in with that knife ready to kill us. We were almost certain that she still couldn't see us, so we stood on either side of her. Then, right when she was about to pounce on one of our empty bedrolls I touched her arm." Atara laughed outright this time. "She jumped so high I thought her head would hit the top of the tent. Then she dropped her knife and nearly tripped over herself trying to get out of here."

A small smile played at the edges of İskender's mouth. "It was… inconsiderate of you to strike such fear into someone's heart." He paused, looking at both Hadassah and Atara in turn before continuing, "But… under the circumstances, it was rather appropriate." He released the smile.

* * *

"You are utterly incompetent! I should strike you dead where you stand!" her Master's wrathful voice echoed off of the walls, seeming to send even the glowing fungus into hiding.

Nyot said nothing, hoping that her silence might appease him at least a little bit.

"But." He said ominously, "Since you seem to be incapable of getting rid of this handful of troublemakers, I will have to do it myself."

Nyot looked about the cavern in surprise, "But – but you cannot –"

"I cannot what? Possess them?! I don't want them anyway, little stupid human. My plans are much too important to let these few pests spoil. Tonight, after they're all blissfully asleep, I will come to them."

Nyot could hear the evil grin on his face – even though he had no face with which to grin.

"It is a slumber from which they will never waken."

* * *

The day passed rather normally for İskender's group. The regular chores were attended to, the loaned animals fed and watered, the clothes mended, the food prepared. All in all it was just another day of waiting. All five of them knew that the Guardian would be coming soon – just how soon, only Lucifer and God knew.

Soon, another night was upon them. The group did just as they had every previous night and curled up in their tents – or on their bedroll – and drifted off to sleep shortly after sundown.

The night was beautiful and cool, unlike the scorching days. Perhaps it was the cool desert breeze that awoke Ibrahim that night – the night he saw the host and heard the voices of God's messengers.

* * *

Something brushed Ibrahim's cheek lightly. He brushed at it absently, trying to get rid of the tickling sensation. When he failed to get rid of the irritant he opened his eyes to make sure it wasn't the loaned camel deciding to sniff him while he slept.

What he saw when he opened his eyes was no camel.

"It is the fallen one." Said one of the brilliant spectacles that now surrounded the small camp.

"The prince of lies." Said another.

"The destroyer." And another

"The deceiver." And still another.

The labels kept flying from the mouth of every – what were these beings? – one of the figures surrounding them, facing out into the desert.

"Let me through!" a booming voice filled with malice and anger exploded through the night. It was obviously not coming from one of the shining ones.

"We are charged with the protection of these few." The largest of the bright beings declared.

"Even the archangel is here?" the voice of evil retorted. "He is getting desperate."

"Our Lord is not governed by your plans, Lucifer."

Ibrahim's eyebrows rose. Then he hurriedly untangled himself from his blanket and circled around to the front of his sister and daughter's tent. They had to see this too.

"Get up!" he whispered urgently to both the sleeping young women. "There's something going on outside!'

Hadassah and Atara started awake for the third time in two nights. The bright light outside the tent shown all around them, but it did not blind them as they would have expected it to.

"Come on." Hadassah urged her niece as she vaulted out of bed and through the tent flap. She was met by the sound of two voices, one beautiful, the other terrible, engaged in debate.

"You will not touch them. The Sovereign has decreed it so. They will not be terrorized by you."

"You are still a fool, Mikha'el*!" the evil one spat.

"He is no fool who accepts the rule of Jehovah, fallen one."

The evil one bellowed his outrage.

Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara watched as the one called Mikha'el drew a great sword and assumed a battle-ready stance. An instant later, every other shining one drew their swords as well.

"Leave this place, thou embodiment of pride and deceit." Mikha'el ordered. "In the name of the Holy One."

The evil one screamed his anguish and in that instant the scene that Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara beheld disappeared, replaced by the silent, cold desert sand.

* * *

**Chapter 23 was inspired by:**

"Jesus Exalted," by John R. Van Gelderen and Daniel J. Van Gelderen, found on the Baptist College of Ministry CD, "Now Unto Him."

**Notes:**

* Mikha'el – the archangel Michael; his name is a rhetorical question, "Who is like God?" the answer being "no one."


	28. Chapter 24: The Safeena

**Chapter 24: The Safeena**

"They are more of a problem than I first thought." The Lightbearer confided in his second-in-command. "The very Host of Heaven protects them."

"But they are still fallible, great one." The second replied.

"I know. And it will be their undoing." The fallen one said. "If they cannot be destroyed from without then they must be corrupted from within."

"Yes, great one." The second replied again.

"Sow discord among them. Send doubts and fears. Wear them out so that they are tired and cannot think as rationally as they ought. Tempt them to put off things. Turn the young women's eyes towards the camps of the unbelieving men. Even if this generation will not fall, the ones to come will. This is how we will fell them – by their own humanity."

* * *

The rest of the night passed sleeplessly for Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara. Trying to contain their excitement from the event they had just witnessed was not working. All three sat up and talked about what they had seen and what it could mean for them all.

When the first rays of morning broke through the darkness the trio flooded into İskender and Simay's tent, loudly announcing their arrival. Then, in an utterly disorganized and joyful manner, the three young people proceeded to elaborate the events of the previous night.

The two older members of the party were not at all surprised at the goings on. They knew full well the kinds of things that went on in that other world – the spiritual world that no man's eyes can see except they be opened by God.

When Ibrahim, Hadassah and Atara had finished their telling, İskender and Simay told their own story of how God had sent a host of angels to protect them many years ago – the night that İskender had wandered into Malcus, Simay and Seda's camp.

"Those were angels?" Ibrahim asked.

"From what you've all told us, yes, they were." İskender replied.

"What about the different one? The one Lucifer called 'Mikha'el'?" Atara said.

"The archangel himself…" İskender said, a bit more respectfully. "He replaced Lucifer when the covering cherubim fell. He was there at the death of Moses, one of the great prophets of Israel. It is also said that there will come a day when Christ will take His people from this world. Mikha'el will be the one to herald that event."

A contemplative silence fell over the group for a moment.

"Father," Hadassah said, "we are all wondering something."

"What is it?" Her father asked.

"Why are we so important?" she asked, "We are only five. How can we be so dangerous a force that Lucifer himself must come to be rid of us?"

İskender looked at his adoptive daughter thoughtfully before answering, "I don't know, Hadassah. But I don't think that Lucifer knows exactly why either. Our presence here at this particular time has obviously upset something he is planning."

"We are servants of God." Simay added. "He had sent us here, to this place at this time for a particular reason. There are no accidents in God's plans – you all know that. There's something going on here that we don't know about; I am sure of that." She looked at İskender who picked up where she left off.

"The best thing that we can do now is be on the lookout for anything unusual – especially any new arrivals. This Guardian that Nyot spoke of with Lucifer should be arriving soon. We also know that she will have another person with her – an aide. Another factor that we have in our favor is that we have a good idea as to the identity of the Guardian." İskender looked at Ibrahim and Hadassah, "Your sister, Seda. The identity of the aide, however, cannot be guessed at this point."

"Always be on your guard." Simay advised. "They could come at any time of the day or night."

* * *

İskender and Simay's admonitions did not go unheeded. There were several new arrivals over the course of the next few days. Most of them turned out to be unremarkable. A few were richer individuals, but the rest of them were normal people, just like everyone else.

On the fourth day of their vigil, at twilight, their watchfulness paid off.

Two women, both wearing dark veils, entered the camp, coming in from the north, near where İskender's group had camped.

Ibrahim was the first to notice that these two new arrivals seemed different somehow. The most obvious difference was that these two had not come overly laden with possessions or supplies. Each woman led a single horse and on each horse there were two small saddlebags. It looked like these two had come straight here with great haste, stopping seldomly. The horses needed a good bath and brushing. Their coats were crusty with sweat from the journey they had just completed.

The veiled women walked right past Ibrahim, seemingly paying him no heed, as they continued on, straight towards the rock spiral. Straight towards the very seat of Satan.

* * *

Nyot, to her own surprise, was still alive and as well as could be expected under these conditions.

She was walking back towards her Master's refuge after another day of fruitless watching for the Guardian when she saw two people, each leading a tired horse, coming towards the towering rock.

As the two got closer, Nyot could make out the veils that the strangers were wearing. The women's horses were lightly burdened – a strange thing considering the fact that nearly everyone else here in this valley had taken half of their former homes with them. Some had even dragged national treasures out here to this pitiful, sandy cesspool of backwater humanity.

Wanting to see what the women would do, Nyot slipped into the shadows near the entrance to the Lightbearer's temporary dwelling place.

Once they reached the opening in the rock, the women left their horses ground tied outside and confidently stepped into the Lightbearer's domain.

Carefully, Nyot slipped in behind them. The fungus on the walls seemed to glow brighter with the passage of the two strange women.

Just to make sure that she was not discovered, Nyot hung back from the women, stepping carefully and quietly along the glowing, padded rock floor. Everything seemed to be going well until…

"You are fooling no one." The voice of the Lightbearer echoed back to Nyot. She almost answered, thinking herself discovered, but held her tongue. She was glad that she had when she heard the voice of one of the women answer.

"It is a precaution. We do not know who will and will not recognize us. We travel like this regularly, great one."

Nyot sneaked all the way down the corridor until she was just around the corner from the very room in which she had spoken with her Master several days before.

"Do the Enemy spies know that you are here?" Nyot's Master asked.

"There was one man who saw us, but he did not seem to be a threat."

"They never seem like they are a threat." The Lightbearer hissed. "Until it is too late."

"Very true, great one, I –" The woman said before being unceremoniously cut off by someone else.

"You have summoned me. I have come." This time a different voice – a strange voice – somehow both human and inhuman: female and male. It was the voice of the Guardian.

"Yes." The Lightbearer was pleased. "We have much to do before our… departure."

"Indeed." The Guardian replied. "Are the appointed individuals cooperating suitably?"

"They are." The Devil replied.

"What is left to do before we are to leave?" said the Guardian.

"There is yet one more piece to develop, and then the safeena can be assembled. After that, they must reproduce it several times in order to accommodate all of the summoned ones… Then, we leave this place." Nyot's master said, sounding a bit giddy, especially at the last bit.

"What on earth is a 'safeena'?" Nyot wondered to herself.

"I would be pleased for you to inspect their progress." The Lightbearer said, obviously proud of whatever he wanted the Guardian and her aide to see.

"We would be most pleased to see it, great one." The Guardian replied.

Nyot heard some whispering between her Master and the Guardian, but she could not make out quite what was being said, even though she strained her ears to hear. She only caught a few words, "door," "open," "east," and "amulet."

Sensing that the end of the conversation was near, Nyot scooted back down the corridor a short ways, finding a dark recess in the rock that she remembered seeing many times on her way in and out of this place. The spiritist wedged herself inside the opening just in time to avoid being seen by the departing Guardian and her aide.

"Nyot!" the Lightbearer bellowed her name as soon as the two other women had cleared the entrance.

The spiritist swallowed hard before running to meet her master, trying to give the impression that she had been passing by when he had called her. She fully expected to be punished for listening in on what sounded like it was a highly classified conversation. However, when she reached the cavern she was pleasantly surprised.

"Nyot." Her Master addressed when she stepped into the small pool of fungus-emitted light. "The Guardian and her aide have arrived. Their accommodations need to be prepared. They are to stay a few miles east of this place, in the only intact building in the ruins."

"Yes, Master." Nyot bowed respectfully, covering her surprise at not having been discovered and her double surprise at being sent in the same direction that the Guardian was heading this very moment.

"Go and prepare their quarters."

"Yes, great one." Nyot bowed again before she swiftly left the cavern, not wanting to lose the woman and her companion. After all, the master had not said that she couldn't follow them before she prepared their quarters.

* * *

Several sandy miles later, Nyot dismounted from her "borrowed" horse, far enough away from the Guardian and her aide so that they would not see her and also far enough away from their horses that they would not be alerted to the presence of a third animal.

She left her own horse tied to a rock, a blanker thrown over him to protect him from the cold of the desert night.

Knowledge was power in any situation involving the Lightbearer. Nyot had learned this the hard way one too many times. This time she wanted to know something that her master didn't want her to know. To take part in forbidden knowledge was the best route she could take now. Seeing the Guardian coming had been the best break the spiritist had had in her entire time of service to the Lightbearer. She had met him off and on throughout the years, doing things for him periodically; keeping her fellow villagers out of the hands of the Enemy. She had become fascinated by the web of lies she could weave, the deceptions she could conjure and convince others of. She thought of herself as a master of lies – second to her master of course, but great in her own right none the less. She had even deceived the Lightbearer this time.

Nyot smiled a small mischievous smile to herself at the thought. She had deceived the Prince of lies and gotten away with it.

Before the spiritist could dwell more on her perceived virtues, something inexplicable happened.

As she watched, the Guardian raised her hand high into the air. Nyot was too far away to hear the words the Guardian uttered precisely. The sounds that came to her ears resembled something like, "Guard… Diana."

"What is 'guardiana'?" Nyot asked herself. "It's an awfully strange name if that's what it's supposed to be."

Suddenly, the ground in front of the Guardian began to move and everything seemed to shake.

Nyot fell to the sand in sudden terror, gripping the earth for fear that if she let go she would be thrown into the great maw opening before the two other women. Had they found her out and decided to frighten her to death instead of telling the master about her transgression? Was the world falling to pieces? What were they doing?!

The ground quake began to subside and with it, Nyot's fears. Now her curiosity was piqued by the new sight that lay before her. What she had first thought was the ground splitting in two was really just a great metal door lifting out of the sand to reveal a dark opening.

The Guardian and her aide walked down into the void.

Nyot shook herself out of her stunned state and quickly scampered across the sands over to the strange door that opened the wrong way. When she reached the lip of the opening Nyot hesitated. What if there was something terrible down there?

The door began closing and Nyot reasoned that there was nothing down in this hole that could compare with the things that she had already seen in her lifetime. As long as there were no ghosts… like in those cursed enemy spies' tent.

She stepped down into the darkness, fully expecting to fall head over heels down into a hole. She was stunned when her sandals were granted purchase on a set of stairs – also somehow made of metal. Being unused to walking on such material, Nyot made a special effort at being silent, but she had to step down the first ten steps quickly or risk being gonged on the head by the closing door.

As soon as she had stepped down the last step, Nyot started to see more light. This was no simple hole in the ground. The things she saw both confused and amazed her. There was metal everywhere. It seemed like everything was made out of it – the floor, the rails, the ceiling, the walls.

Nyot carefully walked along a very high walkway, staring down at the myriad new sights that drowned her mind with delight. Her master was truly a genius. How had he assembled all of this – and in a mere three decades?! Why had he not wanted her to know about all of this?

The spiritist continued on her silent journey farther into this new world, being careful not to be spotted by the people she saw running to and fro, looking very busy about something or other.

She was about to turn around and head back to the surface, hoping that the Guardian and her aide had not already left, or else she would be stuck in here until someone else decided they needed to leave. Then she turned a corner and saw the forms of the two women, facing away from her. There was a man standing with them, pointing down at something. The way he was gesturing, it looked like he was excited about it, whatever it was. His Arabic speech did nothing to help her understand, so if she was to find out she would have to go and see for herself.

There were no lights up on the walkway that the two women and the man were standing on, so Nyot quietly sneaked up closer to the three, craning her neck to see just what the man was so animatedly chattering about.

She got a little closer but still could not see down. The floor of the walkway was blocking her view. She was getting a little closer than she was comfortable with, but she just had to see what the man was talking about. Nyot edged just a bit closer to the group. Now the railing was in the way. Closer and closer she inched, standing on the tips of her toes now, hoping to finally catch a glimpse of this mystery.

One more stealthy move brought her just close enough to peer down into the great, well-lit open space below.

What she saw there took her breath away.


	29. Chapter 25: My True Face

**Chapter 25: My True Face**

"Hadassah."

The young woman heard her name being called softly. She peeked her head out through the tent flap and almost hit her brother in the stomach.

"What is it? Are they here?!" she said, equally quietly so as not to disturb Atara, who was still asleep.

"Yes, they've come, but I can't identify either one of them positively. They're both wearing full veils."

"Maybe they'll come back this way so you can get another look at them." Hadassah replied.

Ibrahim snorted. "Not likely."

"Well, one can hope." His sister countered.

"I suppose." He relented.

The next fifteen to twenty minutes was spent silently. Each of the two siblings stood staring off toward the rock spiral in the center of the great camp, watching for more movement coming from the base of the rock. They were rewarded for their patience when the two new arrivals came back their way, this time on horseback.

"What are they doing?" Hadassah whispered.

"How should I know?" Ibrahim said. "Wait. They're turning east. There's nothing out there but desert." He watched the women ride out of the camp, then something else caught his eye a few minutes later. A third person, also on horseback came riding after the Guardian and her companion.

"Something's not right here." Ibrahim whispered to Hadassah.

"More 'not right' than it already is?" she said with a raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"Oh no you're not. I've already had your daughter wander off on me, and look at what she walked into." Hadassah scolded her brother. "I'll not have you stumbling upon a nest of Lucifer's minions – not on my watch."

"But it isn't your watch, sister. It's mine." He said smugly. "Stay here."

"Alright, but if you're not back by dawn, I'm telling father about where you've gone, and he _will_ come after you. Just because God has shielded us from assault thus far does not mean that we are invincible." She reminded.

"Don't worry about me, Hadassah." He said, more confidently this time. "I'll be back."

"Be careful." She said as her brother turned to leave.

"I will." He whispered back before setting off at a run across the sandy ground.

* * *

The night fell quickly. After what seemed like an eternity of slogging through sand, Ibrahim came upon what looked like the remains of a city. The houses were torn down. The walls looked like they had fallen long ago, and sand was piled up against a number of the walls. A few smaller piles of sand looked suspiciously like they were hiding smaller structures.

The young man also discovered three horses, two parked very close to a strange looking design in the sand, the other one tied to a rock just inside the ruins, out of sight of the first two horses.

Ibrahim had heard a rumbling sound a little while ago, and the ground had begun to shake. Nothing violent, but ground-quakes in this area were highly irregular. Perhaps something in or around these ruins had caused it.

Thinking his answer lay within the ruins, Ibrahim began to pick his way through the collapsed and crumbling buildings.

A very long half hour later something again disturbed the quietness of the night.

Ibrahim was walking down a sandy alley, poking his head through windows and doors, looking for anything out of place.

The ground started to shake again and an awful grinding sound assaulted his ears. It seemed to be coming from over where the horses had been left. He ran as quickly as he could over the shifting ground. His feet lost purchase a few times and he went tumbling, but he always managed to pick himself up quickly and continue his urgent journey.

He reached the edge of the ruins just in time to see something that boggled his mind. So this was what had made the earth groan and shake. A great door in the ground was standing wide open. The top of the door jutted out into the sky, opening like a lion's mouth. The ground stopped its trembling and rumbling.

As Ibrahim watched from the ruins, the two veiled women he had seen earlier came out of the opening and walked straight over to their horses. If the two had taken a moment to glance back over their shoulders, they might have seen the third person exit the opening and quickly dart behind a conveniently close boulder. Then, the strange door closed, leaving only the odd markings in the sand to denote its presence.

The Guardian and her companion started to lead their horses towards the ruins. Ibrahim darted back down the street he was watching from and into the abandoned walls of a partial house. It was not perfect cover, but it should be enough to hide him in the darkness.

As he crouched behind his chosen hiding place he heard a single set of footsteps padding quickly through the sand, but on the other side of the abandoned house. He froze, not wanting to risk discovery. As the person passed on the opposite side of the house, Ibrahim caught a glimpse of them in the light of the full moon. Dark skin and a spiritist's garb caught his eye.

"What's Nyot doing here?" he asked himself. "Was she the third person?"

Not ten seconds later the two women passed by the house, this time on his side of the structure. They were speaking in something akin to Arabic, perhaps a local dialect. Their pace was slow; they seemed in no hurry to get to wherever they were going. Something else about the pair caught Ibrahim's eye and he watched them continue on down the deserted sandy street. Their horses were unmarked, but on each saddlebag he could just make out the shape of the head of a bear adorning each one.

Ibrahim looked up at the moon. Judging that he had been gone only a couple of hours thus far, he decided to follow the women for a while, just until he could find out some of what was going on here.

Sneaking from building to building, Ibrahim tracked the women through the ruins, all the way to the center of the run down city. There, to his surprise, he found a completely intact and habitable building. It looked like it had been recently repaired, and there was candlelight glowing softly through the open windows. Ibrahim even thought he could hear the crackling of a fire coming from inside the building. The warmth of the candle and fire contrasted bitterly with the coldness of the desert night and the moonlit darkness that enveloped everything outside the house.

Now pressed up against one of the walls of the repaired house, Ibrahim could see everything that happened in the main room through one of the small windows. He was careful not to be seen by any of the occupants of the strange building.

Within the house, the Guardian's companion started talking to Nyot, asking her why the house was not completely ready yet, to which the spiritist mumbled something about having to dig a stone out of her horse's hoof. The liar. Nyot, it seemed was not supposed to see whatever lay beyond that strange door. However, the inquiring woman asked no more questions after that.

The Guardian and her companion started conversing in Arabic again, ignoring Nyot as she further straightened up the room.

Ibrahim continued to surreptitiously watch the goings on inside the house. Nothing of any interest happened for a while, until the aide went outside and came back into the house carrying one of the saddlebags. She offered it to the Guardian.

The woman – still frustratingly veiled – reached into the proffered bag and withdrew a small silver statue. As best as Ibrahim could tell, it was a… bear? But that didn't make any… sense… Or did it? Something clicked in his mind – a memory from the distant past, something from his childhood. When he realized the significance of what he was seeing, he quickly sneaked away from the house and back out through the ruins.

"I sincerely hope that isn't what I think it is." He thought to himself as he set off back through the desert to his family's campsite.

* * *

"I never thought I would have to think about that thing again." Simay said quietly after Ibrahim had explained to her what he had seen.

"Is it the same one, mother?"

"There was only ever one, my son. I watched my mother take it from the Temple of Artemis Diana in Ephesus when I was a little girl. It is undoubtedly the same one." Simay turned to İskender who was sitting beside her. "What concerns me more than the reappearance of the statue is this door in the ground. Did you get the chance to see what was inside it?"

"No, unfortunately not. I only arrived in time to see them come out."

"The best thing we can do now is wait." İskender said.

Ibrahim sighed and looked down at the sand.

"I know it seems like that's all we've been doing lately. I don't like at any more than you do. I'd much rather be out there 'doing something,' but that's not what's best for now." İskender continued.

"I know…" Ibrahim said, the reluctance evident in his voice, "I just wish that there was _something_ that we could be doing – something besides waiting and watching."

"Never stop praying that God's will be done in all of this, Ibrahim." Simay encouraged her son. "He knows what He's doing."

Ibrahim nodded, looking a bit less edgy, "I'll tell my sister and daughter." He said before leaving his mother and step-father.

When her son was out of earshot, Simay turned to her husband. "He can be impetuous at times."

İskender laughed. "So can we all. He'll be alright."

"You don't think it'll get him into trouble in the mean time?"

"I never said that."

Simay raised an eyebrow. "So you think he will?"

"Most assuredly."

"You aren't concerned about him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes trouble is the best teacher a man can have. When he gets into something that is too big for him to handle on his own, he will learn to depend wholly on God for direction. Thus far, Ibrahim has not come across many things that he cannot handle by himself – with a small bit of help from family at times. He is still trying to rely on himself too much."

"You've seen all that in the short time they've been with us?" Simay asked.

"It's been about half a year since we all set out together." Her husband replied.

"Has it been so long…?" she whispered. "Time goes so quickly…"

"Too quickly." He said, wrapping an arm around Simay.

* * *

More time passed. Infuriatingly long weeks; hot, dry days; cold nights; the occasional foray back into the ruins to look in on the Guardian – whose identity had yet to be entirely confirmed – and her companion passed. On none of his excursions out to the ruins did Ibrahim get the chance to see the strange door open or close again. The entire camp was quieter than the desert at midnight.

For this reason, it startled everyone when one day, nearly three months after the Guardian and her companion arrived, someone came galloping through camp on a black horse, for no obvious reason, heading towards the rock spiral.

The whole camp, previously settled, started to stir. Because they were on one of the far edges of the camp, İskender's group did not notice the frenzy until a few hours after the stir had begun.

Their nearest neighbors came to share the gossip about the strange rider. Rumors were spreading rapidly. The word was that he was some sort of messenger, though no one could figure out from whom he brought his supposed message.

Things only got stranger when the Guardian and her companion came riding in from the desert as well, heading quickly for the landmark at the center of the pilgrim camp.

It was midafternoon by now, just past the hottest part of the day. The harsh light made onlookers' eyes hurt if they stared out into the sand for too long. Because of the sun's fierce rays, and the resulting less-than-ideal visibility everyone in İskender's group was entirely caught off guard by the loud voice that seemed to permeate the entire area.

"Look to me, summoned ones." It boomed. "Look up!"

A collective gasped issued from the thousands of mouths owned by those standing in the valley as every head turned upward. Then a deep silence overtook the place, stemming from a mix of fear, awe, and surprise.

"What _is_ that?" Atara ventured.

"I have no idea…" Hadassah answered, her gaze riveted on the spectacle.

Simay had a horrified look on her face as she stared up at the gigantic veiled face that was floating in the sky above the camp.

The voice continued, seeming to come from the face. "You have all been called here for a reason."

Silence.

"You have been chosen to begin your lives anew, in a place far away from here."

More silence.

"A place where no one will ever hunt you, or persecute you again."

A half-hearted cheer arose from portions of the crowd.

"You will be free from tyranny." The voice continued. "Free from religious wars. Free from the petty squabbles that your governments have imposed upon you all."

A few more people voiced their support – after they had shaken themselves out of the haze they had withdrawn into upon seeing the strange sight.

"You will be the seeds of an entirely new world!"

At this, most of the camp enthusiastically applauded.

"I am known as the Guardian of Diana – the one who called all of you here. I have remained hidden behind this veil thus far because I wanted to remain anonymous to you. But now," the Guardian grasped the veil and ripped it off of her face, "I show you my true face, so that you may know me."

Beautiful, curly, red hair cascaded down past the woman's shoulders, and dark brown eyes gazed down at them all.

The face of young Seda floated before them, framed by the cloudless desert sky.


	30. Intermission 4

**Dedication: **This intermission is dedicated to asthiathien: a great reader and writer as well as a wonderful source of inspiration and motivation.

* * *

**Intermission**

"Sir?" Masterson looked over at Desslok in confusion as the prince waved a hand in front of the hologram, signaling it to stop.

The image of Talonka nodded in recognition of his command.

"I just can't do this right now, Talan." The prince said. "I have to figure a few things out before I finish this."

"I see." Masterson said. "Does this have anything to do with your hesitation earlier?"

The prince looked away, but nodded reluctantly. "It is not my mother whom I doubt. I know she would not lie to me. It is myself whom I hold in question…"

"No wonder he's acting so strangely." Masterson thought.

"How do I know I'll do what she intended for me to do with this information? Will I even understand it the way it was intended to be understood?" Desslok let his head come to rest in his hands. Then, he laughed quietly. "How do I even begin to process all of this…?"

"The way you always have, my friend; one piece at a time." Masterson said.

"One piece at a time…" Desslok echoed, then sat silently for a moment before declaring, "Well then, let's go and get one of those pieces, shall we." The prince abruptly stood up and walked purposefully out the door, a look of determination reignited in his eyes. Masterson tagged along close behind, not sure where the prince was going, but sure that it would be interesting.

* * *

Masterson was not disappointed. The teenagers wove their way through the halls and passageways of the palace, working their way downward through the many levels that separated them from Desslok's goal. They arrived at the door of the secure cell block below the ground floor of the palace.

"What better place to keep your enemies than under your feet?" one of the early rulers had said.

Upon seeing the prince, the attending guards saluted and backed away from the door, allowing him full access to everything.

Desslok motioned to one of the guards to let him go into the cell block. The guard quickly obeyed, and Desslok and Masterson were soon walking down a narrow hall between two rows of well-lit cells, each one housing only one prisoner. There were so many captives here – some had been in residence since before the Queen's death five years ago.

Masterson continued to follow the prince, watching the prisoners carefully. The admiral's son nearly ran into the prince when Desslok suddenly stopped and turned to peer into one of the cells. Then the prince turned and summoned one of the guards to let him into this particular cell.

"Sir." Masterson protested.

Desslok held up a silencing hand, and the look on his face told Masterson to say no more.

Masterson nodded his capitulation but slipped into the cell behind the prince when the guard had opened the row of bars and the force field that kept the prisoners doubly encased.

After motioning the guard to leave, Desslok turned and stared into the far left corner of the cell, letting his gaze burn into the face of the man that sat on the cell's single chair. It was the amulet-wielding Guardiana follower.

"How did you get in?" the prince's question was subtly infused with venom.

The prisoner, without looking up, laughed. "You of all people should know, highness." The zealot smirked. "Did they send you here to 'find out' what traitor let us in?" he laughed again. "They are fools – the lot of them." The prisoner stood. He was tall. His light blue skin seemed to glow with a fervent radiance as his eyes began to smolder. "Now, give us what you promised."

Masterson looked first at the Guardiana follower, then at Desslok, confused.

"I promised you nothing." Desslok spat.

"Give us what is ours!" the zealot yelled, flying at the prince and pinning him to the wall by his neck.

Masterson exploded into action, drawing the concealed weapon he had started carrying a couple of years ago, just for such cases. But as the admiral's son raised the barrel of the gun towards the prisoner, he saw that the prince had beaten him on the draw.

Desslok had a knife pressed up against the zealot, ready to slip between his ribs and into his unprotected heart.

"Do that," the prince croaked, an annoying smile spreading across his face, "and I take you with me." To enunciate his point, Desslok pushed the tip of the blade into the prisoner's flesh, just enough to leave a tiny patch of red on the zealot's shirt. "And if I fail to kill you," Desslok continued menacingly, "_he_ won't."

The prisoner looked up to see Masterson's weapon pointed at his head.

The man grunted, releasing his hold on Desslok and stepping away.

The prince rubbed his offended throat while looking disdainfully at the zealot. "Now. Let's get this straight, shall we." He glared at the prisoner. "I. Owe. You. Nothing." He enunciated each word, still holding that awful grin.

"You are a liar then." The Guardiana follower growled. "What's to stop me from revealing your secret?"

The prince chuckled. "You seem to have forgotten something."

The prisoner glowered.

"You are in _my_ prison." The prince said, "And in _my_ prison, _I_ make the rules."

The zealot uttered a few unrepeatable labels at Desslok.

"What did you expect anyway?" the prince continued, ignoring the prisoner's foul language. "I am no pawn of yours."

"That is not what you said last time we met, prince." The zealot spat out the title mockingly.

"Last time we met I was not the same person I am now." Desslok said cryptically.

"You are still the crown-prince, Deun the second, son of Deun, son of the great ruler Desslok the second of his name." the Guardiana follower's words rolled off of his tongue, more elegantly than either Desslok or Masterson would have guessed.

Masterson hid his surprise at the prisoner's revelation and continued to play along with the misconception.

"What if I am?" Desslok shrugged, giving no indication that anything was at all amiss. "I am still entitled to change my mind, am I not?"

"No!" the zealot suddenly bellowed. "You are _not_! You made a bargain, prince! Fulfill it!"

"Yeshin!" Desslok thundered, startling the prisoner. "That is your name if my… sources are not mistaken." He let the last bit fall threateningly, allowing the zealot to draw his own conclusions as to what "sources" the prince was referring to.

"My name is of little value." Yeshin replied bitterly.

"Now, what was I supposed to do for you again?" the prince baited.

"You are a petty child who does not understand _anything_!" Yeshin rumbled. "I will tell you nothing more, no matter what you do to me!"

Desslok feigned indifference. "Very well." He turned to Masterson, "Come."

The prince and his friend walked back to the cell door, summoned a very frightened looking guard to lock the door, and left the cell block.

* * *

"That mesaperet shakarim*!" Desslok exploded once he and Masterson had returned to the prince's quarters. "He was the one! My own brother?!"

Masterson said nothing, knowing better than to try to step in on this particular storm.

"My father must know about this." The prince seethed. "All of our lives are now in greater danger than they ever were before." He turned to Masterson. "I must see my father."

"But he will not see you, sir. Even the guards have orders not to admit you."

"Then I will make him see me." Desslok countered. "There is always a way to do what must be done."

"Very well, sir." Masterson nodded.

* * *

Getting in to see the Leader was not as simple as it sounded. There were official channels to be bypassed and guards to get around. Thankfully, the Leader did not spend all of his time in places that warranted the presence of more than a few guards.

At this hour, the Leader was in his own quarters – the same ones that Desslok had managed to break into and rifle through several months ago to find that combination. However, even with the circumvention of the security, getting inside was not their biggest problem; staying inside would be.

Desslok and Masterson waited quietly around the corner from the Leader's suite, waiting for the right moment to set their plan in motion.

"Sir…?"

"What?" the prince whispered, trying not to draw the attention of the guards stationed at his father's door.

"Once we're inside, how will we keep him from throwing us out again?"

"Leave that to me." The prince replied.

There was a moment of silence before Masterson broke it again.

"Sir…?

"What?!" the prince asked, a bit more irritated this time.

"When did you know he thought you were your brother?"

Desslok was silent for a moment, thinking back to the incident in the cell before saying, "When he heard my voice and didn't look up." The prince, still looking away from Masterson, let his head drop just a little in a sign of hot displeasure. "No prisoner I've ever seen intentionally ignores his visitors – however unpleasant they may be. The curiosity is too much. The only reason he would have had not to look at me was because he thought he already knew who I was." Desslok turned his fiery gaze towards his friend. "Obviously my brother forgot to tell his new compatriots a few key facts about himself."

The prince abruptly turned and stuck his head around the corner.

"Come." He said to Masterson. "They've gone. The next watch will be here soon; we must hurry."

The two teenagers flew down the hall, making it to the door within a few seconds. Fifteen seconds later the prince had the door open and he and Masterson disappeared inside. The door shut behind them a few seconds before the new guards turned the corner and took their posts on either side of the entryway to their ruler's chambers.

"This is beginning to remind me of that history of yours." Masterson whispered.

"But thankfully we are not walking into a shêd's* lair." The prince replied quietly.

The two were silent as they navigated through the ridiculously luxurious set of rooms that Leader Deun had claimed for himself. The floor itself shone like gold and there were thick green curtains hanging from the occasional windows. The organically shaped furniture seemed to flow into the walls and floor, creating the perception of unity and harmony – far from the true state of things. There was even what appeared to be an indoor garden area, complete with a colossal fountain, also encrusted with gold, which could be used for bathing purposes.

As the pair continued to travel through the small wing they noticed more aspects of the architecture. The larger rooms' high ceilings arched upwards, coming to one elegant point in the center of the residence.

Without warning the prince ducked into a small nondescript, dark room, unceremoniously dragging Masterson with him.

As they stood silently, Masterson began to hear the whirring of a maintenance bot. It remained in the area only long enough to carry out whatever programming had sent it here in the first place. Then it disappeared again to wander around looking for something else to do. Once the droid was gone the two continued on their way.

It was not two minutes later that the two came upon the Leader. He looked uncharacteristically relaxed seated on a comfortable couch, drinking something purple that was probably alcoholic. However, the moment was soon broken.

"We have a traitor in our midst, father." Desslok stepped forward as he said it.

The Leader whirled towards the voice, "Deun, I didn't –" he stopped short when he saw the glove. "You." He looked away from his younger son. "Get out of my sight." The Leader turned his back on the young man.

"This cannot be ignored!" the prince insisted.

Silence enveloped the room as the Leader fastidiously ignored his son while still holding his drink absently in one hand.

"Go ahead." Desslok sneered, "Turn your back on me now as you always have in the past… but know that in doing so you condemn yourself to death."

The prince's words seemed to strike something deep within the Leader, but despite that, he still did not turn around.

"Deun is a liar." Desslok said, letting his voice drop about fifty degrees in temperature.

Silence.

"He is the one who told them how to get in." the prince continued coldly, knowing that his father knew exactly who he was referring to.

The Leader merely walked to one of the windows set in the opposite wall.

"He will kill you." Desslok stated. "He will kill us all."

"You," said the Leader, "are a fool. Your brother is infinitely loyal to me. Whatever he has done, I know it is for the good of the empire."

The prince felt like throwing something or letting loose a few choice words. Instead, he exercised what little self-control he had left and did neither.

"Die then." Desslok spat. "When he kills you, remember what I've said, father. Remember, and weep as the shêdim consume your mind and bend your will to their own before they slaughter you like a poor, dumb beast."

* * *

"Well, that was certainly an effective means of getting us expelled from your father's presence." Masterson said as they stepped through the door into the prince's residence. "I don't know that I've ever seen guards appear that quickly before."

"He deserved every word of it." Desslok stated flatly.

"Perhaps." Masterson admitted, "But he is still your father, and your ruler."

"And he is unfit to be either!" Desslok countered.

"Adonai chose him, sir. Fit or unfit, he is still anointed. Even Shauwl,* with all his failings was still looked upon by his successor as the chosen king until the time appointed by Adonai." Masterson gently reminded.

"You spout the Torah to me, yet you are a follower of Yeshua." The prince shook his head, albeit less anxiously now.

"Mashiach came to fulfill the Torah, not to destroy it."

"And that is why you hold it is such high esteem, yes, I know." The prince said, knowing where Masterson was going with this train of thought.

"The Torah shows us our failings. It shows us that we cannot make our own way to God – that we cannot earn eternal life because we ourselves are imperfect."

The prince just looked at Masterson, the way he had many times before just prior to telling his friend to keep his religion to himself. This time was no exception.

"I've had enough of your Faith for one day, Talan." The sharp reply came.

The rebuke clearly saddened the admiral's son, but he did not protest. Instead he nodded and said, "Very well. I shall return tomorrow then," and left the prince's quarters.

Desslok sighed and shook his head as the door closed behind Masterson. It had always been a point of contention between them. Masterson always wanted to talk about his religion. The prince preferred reality. The trouble came when Talan insisted that his Faith _was_ reality. Desslok could only stomach so much of that at a time. He was doing quite well to have digested this much of his mother's history without a respite. Thankfully not every other sentence was about her Mashiach.

The prince walked over to the couch that he and Masterson had vacated earlier and sat down on one side of it again, signaling the hologram to continue from where it had left off.

The image of his mother appeared again, leaving the bitter taste of memory in his mind once again. This time however, the prince was taken aback by the words that came from Talonka.

"Whatever he has said to you, it was most likely warranted." she said.

The prince stared at her, dumbfounded. How did she always know? Even now that she was dead she knew.

"Go." His mother commanded, "He is now just as much a part of this as you are. I will not continue unless he is here as well."

Suitably rebuked the prince left his quarters to fetch Masterson.

* * *

"I thought you had had enough of my Faith for one day." The young Talan said with folded arms and a raised eyebrow.

"I had." The prince's expressionless face began to give way and he looked at the floor. "She made me come to bring you back."

Masterson hid a grin. The queen knew her son better than the prince had guessed. "So she will not continue without both of us present?"

The look of annoyance on Desslok's face made Masterson chuckle.

"There is nothing at all amusing about any of this." The prince stated.

"I am sorry, sir." Masterson wiped the grin off of his face, but his brown eyes lost none of their amusement.

"You are infuriating, Talan." The prince said.

"I know, sir. I believe you'll find it duly noted in my job description."

The prince gave him a "you are utterly insufferable" look before walking back out of the Talan residence with Masterson now suitably in tow.

Upon the teenagers' return to the prince's quarters Talonka nodded to each young man in turn before continuing her history.

* * *

**Intermission Notes:**

*** Mesaperet shakarim – "lie teller"**

*** Shêd – pronounced "shade" – translated "devil, or "demon"**

*** Shauwl – King Saul, predecessor of David, king of Israel**


	31. Chapter 26: In Light of a Message

**Chapter 26: In Light of a Message**

Staring into the larger-than-life face of her older sister made Hadassah want to shudder in fear and shout for joy all at once. Her mother clearly shared the same sentiments. Simay's eyes were clouding with tears as she stared up at the young woman who had once been her little girl.

Seda continued her speech.

"Summoned ones! We stand for freedom from oppression."

The crowd seemed to be getting more into the speech now that a lot of the shock had passed. Some of them were even beginning to look inspired.

"It is now time to go forth and free some of our fellow man from those who would sell them like animals to others who care nothing for them. At this very moment a slave train is traveling through the area, not but a few miles north of here. They bring four hundred captives with them: captives who had no choice but to go where their task masters instructed them to go. Many of them suffer from grave hunger and thirst – their deaths imminent. Now, my summoned ones, followers of me, the Guardian of the great Diana, lovers of freedom, go and set the captives free!"

A collective roar rose from the multitude as every man – and even some of the women – grabbed weapons, mounted swift beasts and swarmed north, towards the passing slavers.

"Ibrahim, İskender, perhaps it would be best if you two stayed inside the tents until everyone has returned." Simay said to her husband and son. "We do not want to draw undo suspicion."

İskender nodded his agreement and he and his step-son slipped into one of the tents, giving the appearance of being out with the rest of the freedom-fighters.

While the two men were in the tent all three women pretended to busy themselves with daily tasks, glancing towards the center of the camp often, watching Seda and her still-veiled companion.

From what Simay, Hadassah and Atara could gather, the aide held what looked like a necklace – perhaps an amulet of some sort – that, when pointed at someone could replicate an image of that person and place that image up in the sky for all to see. It seemed a bit like a trick of mirrors. Though, how such a tiny mirror could do something like that, none of them could understand. And the amplified sound was still inexplicable since mirrors could not do such things.

The trick of the floating image and traveling sound did not truly unsettle them. They were dealing with the enemy Lucifer now in addition to the foul spirit that called itself "Diana." Nothing was too crazy – nothing.

* * *

Hours later, at dusk, the men and women who lit out of camp earlier returned in a melee of triumph. Most of the slaves from the passing group were being helped along by the returning victors.

Simay looked on with mixed emotions. The suffering slaves had been freed from their wrongful captivity, but there was one thing about the entire scene that made her entire body shiver. The blades of many a sword were stained with blood – the slavers' blood. One victor even carried with him a few gory trophies from the conquest.

This went beyond freeing slaves. This was beginning to turn gruesome.

When all the men had returned from the raid, İskender and Ibrahim discretely emerged from the tent, careful, as always, not to draw too much attention to themselves.

When her husband noticed the signs of battle he caught Simay's eye and gave her a look of sober realization. These people, led by their daughter, were not above shedding blood – guilty or innocent – in order to further their cause.

* * *

For six months the now-free slaves worked to integrate themselves into their new society. A few ambitious souls wanted to leave the camp and find a new life elsewhere. They were allowed to leave, or so it appeared to everyone. Unbeknownst to all but a handful of the pilgrim group, those who left the camp never saw the light of the next day dawn.

Those in İskender's group were among the few who knew of this despicable practice. Because they were on the edge of the camp, they saw many things they were not intended to see; among them was one particularly animated discussion that took an unexpected turn.

* * *

Night was again upon them. The stars shone just as brightly as they always did out here in the middle of the desert, but it seemed to Simay that there was a darkness coming – a darkness greater than she had ever known before. It would be a darkness that only the Light of the world could dispel.

As she sat out under the stars, leaning up against a palm tree by the oasis she began to hear voices coming from somewhere nearby. It was two women. One sounded familiar… a voice from the past.

Simay looked around slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. There they were, standing close to the water, not thirty feet behind her. The darkness and the presence of the water combined made the voices carry quite well and Simay could hear both women clearly.

As she looked at them, she recognized Nyot the spiritist from Atara and Hadassah's descriptions of her. The other woman was the one whose voice Simay had recognized, the Guardian's companion – still veiled.

"I want to know what's going on here." Nyot whispered loudly.

"You do not need to know." The other woman said.

"So why is it that you need to know and I don't? I'm just as much a part of this as you are!"

"No. You aren't."

"Yes, I am! I know about that little underground secret of yours."

The aide was silent at this admission from the other woman.

"So tell me!" Nyot demanded. "What is this 'safeena' you spoke of?"

The aide still said nothing.

"'Safeena'?" Simay thought to herself, "That's the Arabic word for 'ship.' Why would there be a ship underground? And how would it get there anyway?" Then Simay remembered the great door that Ibrahim had witnessed closing those many months ago. "Alright, well, even if they got it down there, how would they get it out again? There's no water around here to make it float." Simay continued her mental conversation with herself.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Nyot's enraged voice pierced the night again. "I know you're planning on using that thing to get everyone out of here."

Still no reply from the other woman.

"It's supposed to fly, isn't it?" Nyot said.

This question confused Simay. A ship that flew? That made no sense. However, she had seen many things in the past several years that also made no sense to her. Perhaps a flying ship was not so odd.

"Say something!" Nyot finally snapped and grabbed the other woman's veil, ripping it off to reveal a face that sent Simay reeling.

Standing there, beneath the light of the moon and stars was the woman she had once called 'friend,' the one she had named her daughter for. The confidant turned murderer, Seda stood unmoved by the display of anger. The wrinkles on her face were much more numerous than they should have been, and her hair was entirely white.

"So you're only an old woman." Nyot sneered. "Tell me then, hag. Tell me what you are planning with my Master and I will not kill you where you stand!"

"You are not part of this." Seda repeated flatly.

Nyot uttered a muted screech of frustration. Then spiritist began to circle Seda like a wolf about to pounce.

Seda looked at the other woman with disdain.

Nyot suddenly leapt upon Seda, scratching furiously at the aide's exposed face with her long, sharp nails. Almost instantly the look on the spiritist's face changed from rage to terror. The sickening sound of a blade tearing through wet flesh met Simay's ears and she fought the urge to gag as she watched Seda callously push Nyot's dead body away, sliding a bloody knife out of the woman's heart without a second thought as to what she had just done.

"Stupid, ignorant fool." Seda hurled the insult at the lifeless woman. "You should never have tried it."

As Seda walked away from the gruesome scene, Simay stayed beneath the tree and wept for the soul that had been so suddenly lost this night.

* * *

When she had regained her composure Simay ran to fetch İskender and together they buried the poor dead woman as best as they could in the shifting sand.

In the morning, when everyone else in their group had awakened, İskender and Simay called the younger members of the party together to break the news of Nyot's death at the hands of the Guardian's companion – who was none other than the elder Seda.

Upon Simay and İskender's revelation, looks of stunned sorrow spread across all three young faces. The rest of that day – and much of that week – was spent in a sad silence that was broken only upon the announcement of another game-changing event.

Seda the elder, now unmasked, stood at the center of the camp at dawn on the last day of the week – the Jewish Sabbath. She made use of that strange amulet and made her face float above the camp, just as she had done for the Guardian months ago.

In addition to the white-haired aide, a group of Jews were congregated around the center of the camp, clad in garments signifying their priestly tribe of origin. Strangely, the Guardian was also there, standing with a handsome young man who was obviously a part of the group of Levites.

The elder Seda then proceeded to announce the marriage of the Guardian to Reuel bar Shammah. The entire camp joyfully accepted the union, flooding to the center of the camp to offer their congratulations and words of wisdom for the new couple.

Simay's heart was heavy as she watched the goings on. Her daughter was completely caught up in this entire plot – perhaps she had even been one of the more recent contributors to it. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that her little girl would soon be thirty years old – quite a bit older than usual for a first marriage, but then again, Simay was not at all sure that this _was_ her daughter's first marriage. She knew so little about her second child… frighteningly little.

* * *

More time passed and everyone in the camp began to think that things would continue on this way forever, until another announcement was made from the sky above the camp.

Simay was standing outside helping to feed their neighbor's livestock when the face of her daughter appeared above them. She noticed that the Guardian's face seemed to be a bit more filled out than it had been on her wedding day almost seven months ago.

With a mix of curiosity and suspicion, Simay strained her eyes to see her daughter standing at the center of the camp. Even the voluminous garment Seda wore could not disguise the signs from her mother's knowing eyes and Simay suddenly understand the need for the hasty wedding of her daughter. The cult that Seda was now at the forefront of was in need of an heir – a daughter marked by Diana. In such an ethnically, religiously and morally diverse group, the only way to ensure everyone's acceptance of a successor was to take the most conservative route – marry and hope that the marriage produced such an heir.

Simay nearly jumped when she heard the booming voice that she had come to realize was a combination of her daughter and her daughter's possessing spirit, Diana.

"My summoned ones." The Guardian said, "It is nearly time for us to depart. Our means of transport is nearly complete. Then our true journey will begin. We will depart in six months' time. You may take whatever you wish, including your animals." Seda paused, letting the people process what she had just said before continuing. "This journey may take generations…" she laid a meaningful hand on her abdomen and waited for the whisper to finish rolling through the camp before she spoke again. "That is a sacrifice I am willing to make. And everyone here must be willing to make that same sacrifice if what the great Diana has planned for us is to become reality.

"I promise you," Seda continued, "that there will always be a Guardian to guide you – to show you the way that Diana would have you to go. If this, my first child is not the next Guardian, then I will bear another and another until she is born. I do this for you, my people, to ensure that you have a hope and a future."

At these words, Simay heard Hadassah whisper, "This is truly of Satan. Only God can offer hope to mankind, and only He can ensure our future."

"At this time," the voice boomed through the camp, "the head of our team of men in charge of the construction of our transportation will come and share with you a few more details about our journey." Seda's face disappeared from the sky only to be replaced by the face of a middle-aged man with coffee-colored skin sporting a receding hairline, thin lips, small dark eyes, and bushy black eyebrows.

"A good day to you, my fellow travelers." He said in an unidentifiable accent. "My name is Mesorious Krom. I am a man of science, and I am honored to have been chosen to execute the plans of your benefactress, "he indicated Seda. "This project is truly visionary, and I think you will all agree with me once I have told you a bit more about it."

The tension in the camp was almost tangible. The people seemed to be silently screaming for him to get on with his explanation and save his opinions until afterwards.

He must have sensed the people's impatience because he started into his explanation without further introduction.

"We will be traveling in a ship, but not just any ship. This one does not travel through water, but through air, and…" he let the sentence drop off, waiting for the crowd to quiet before he dropped the real bombshell, "it also travels through the stars." He said, pointing upwards towards the sky.

Murmurs of unbelief and fear rippled through the camp at this statement. Several shouts of, "Impossible!" and "You're crazy" were hurled at Krom.

The man held up a hand to silence the people. "I understand that you might need a small demonstration. That is not unreasonable for something of such magnitude."

As soon as Mesorious lowered his hand, a deafening roar split the air. People everywhere instantly covered their ears. After a half a minute the roar began to increase in intensity. Then a shadow crept across the camp. Everyone looked directly upwards to see a sight that none of them should ever have been able to see in their lifetime.

It was indeed a ship – like none that any of them had ever seen. Truly this was no sailing ship. As the thing began to make a few circuits around the camp, people everywhere stood speechless, staring up at the vessel that would supposedly take them on a journey through the distant stars.

After its demonstration the ship departed, heading back out into the desert east of the camp.

Mesorious spoke again. "Now. There will be three of these lovely ships to house all of us – more than enough room for us and for future generations and their needs. Over these next six months several of you will be chosen to train as crew for these three ships. Those who show the most promise and ability will be selected, and you will complete your training before the launch date that the honored Guardian has declared. May it be a safe journey for us all." Krom nodded his farewell and disappeared from the sky.

Seda's face reappeared in Krom's place, "My people, this journey will be more difficult than any other journey that you have taken before. But always remember that your Guardian – whether it be me, or my daughter, or my daughter's daughter – will always be there to guide you. You need not be afraid of the unknown."

Absolute silence reigned in the camp as Seda and Krom left the area on horseback, heading slowly east, the same direction that the ship had headed.

"İskender…" Simay looked at her husband who had somehow come to stand beside her. "Please tell me that you just saw all that too…"

"Don't worry, my dear. You are not insane." He said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But because of what we've just seen and in light of a message I just received this morning, there is something that I must do."

"Something… what? What message?" she looked at him, still stunned from the announcement she had just witnessed.

"Do not be concerned for me…" he suddenly enveloped her in a hug.

"Why would I be concerned?" she asked, still confused.

"I… must leave you for a time," İskender said. "But I promise to return."

"No!" Simay exclaimed, reality finally setting in, "No! You can't leave us – not now." She clung to him, not wanting to let him go.

"I have to." He replied gently. "I made a promise many years ago to a friend, and I have to honor that promise – especially now that it appears we will not be here much longer."

Simay fought back tears as she thought about what this would mean for their little family. "At… least, tell me where it is you're going." She finally said.

"A place called Patmos. To see a man named John."


	32. Chapter 27: They Will All Assemble

**Chapter 27: They Will All Assemble**

"How did a message get through whoever's watching the camp borders now?" Simay asked.

"Those patrols are only interested in people." İskender held his arm out. With the grace born of years sailing the breezes a falcon settled on his outstretched arm.

"Oh!" Simay exclaimed.

The bird cocked his head at the noise. His beautiful golden eyes stared into her brown ones as he gazed at her curiously.

"Here." İskender said to the bird, tying a return message to his foot and handing the small paper into one of the bird's taloned feet. "Now go." He said, giving the bird a boost with his arm.

The falcon rose quickly and was soon high above the camp. He took off to the North West, bearing away İskender's words back to whoever had summoned the Ephesian.

"I didn't even see him come." Simay said, watching the small black speck as it rose higher and higher and then disappeared.

İskender laughed. "I doubt anyone did. They were too preoccupied with the announcement and that… show. Who would see one bird when they're all staring at a 'ship' flying around the camp?"

"True." Simay said, "But… why must you go…?" she changed the subject back to the more pressing issue.

"Let's get out of the heat." İskender gently tugged on Simay's hand and she followed him inside.

Once alone, İskender hugged his wife close, took a deep breath and then began his explanation, "When I lived in Ephesus – before I went searching for you – I became friends with a man, one of Paul's travelling companions, named Timothy.

"Do you remember the time that I left Jerusalem – almost thirty years ago now – and didn't return for a month and a half?"

"I remember." Simay said.

"I went back to Ephesus during that time, to see Timothy who had become the pastor of the church there. While I was in town he introduced me to a man named John – the very same one who now appears in the accounts written about Jesus."

"The apostle?" Simay asked in amazement.

"Yes." İskender smiled, still holding his wife. "And we too became friends. I told him about my friend Malcus and his troubled family; about the evil spirit that had indwelt his home and his wife's friend. John was very understanding and helpful in everything he did and said. The best word that I can use to describe him is 'gentle.' He was – is a man of great insight and love for God…" İskender paused to look down into his wife's eyes. "And he is in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"He is now in exile. That is why he is at Patmos. Before they sent him to that island they tried to kill him. They failed. But John lives with the scars and pain to show for their attempts. They could not kill him, so they sent him away."

"And now…?" Simay prodded.

"He has something he wants to give me. That was what that message was about – news from Timothy about John's exile and his gift for me.

"He cannot come to me, so I must go to him." İskender said.

"Is it really so important?" Simay asked.

"Yes, my dear. It is." He replied. "Whatever it is that he has for me, it was important enough for Timothy to seek me out here, in a camp that no one outside the valley is supposed to know about. Yet somehow, he found me anyway – through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, no doubt."

"Be careful…" Simay said, burying her head in her husband's chest to hide her tears.

"I will be." He laid a kiss on her forehead. "I need to leave tonight. There is no moon, so it's less likely that I'll be caught leaving."

Simay turned her tear-filled eyes up towards his face, "Please come back."

He smiled sadly at his wife and then he kissed her before replying, "Through the enabling power of our Saviour, I will return."

* * *

Night fell over the camp and the evening guards were posted. The patrols made one continuous circuit about the camp, always watching. However, on moonless nights, like this one, the patrols tended to move a bit more warily. The ground was harder to see in the dimmer light, so they walked more slowly.

This gave İskender the perfect chance to make his exit. While the two men who were supposed to be patrolling the perimeter nearest his family's campsite were studying the ground in front of their feet the Ephesian scurried past the invisible line that marked the boundaries of the pilgrim camp. He did not stop running until he was absolutely sure that the guards had not seen him.

When no one clubbed him or ran him through with a blade he was fairly certain that he had made it with no incidents – thus far.

The falcon had turned North West; he would go the same way as the bird and stop at whatever town or oasis it had rested at.

This would be a long trek. He would have to go as quickly as possible through the desert and up through Roman-ridden Israel, then he would have to take a ship out to Patmos – hopefully finding a captain who would brave the open waters instead of hugging the shore all the way there. On the whole, if all went well, he would be back in five months – an entire sixty days before the ships' appointed departure date.

He had left his family with a difficult task – covering his absence. The others were bound to notice eventually that he was gone. İskender prayed that they might assume him to have fallen gravely ill and be bedridden, or come up with some equally as innocent reason for him not being up and about the camp.

So much had changed for his little family in the past year or two… Life was certainly never boring. From the night that he had met Simay's mother until now, forty-four years later, he had never truly had a dull moment.

He had decided that he would travel through the night tonight and on into the next morning, stopping to sleep when the air was the hottest. Then he would continue his journey the next evening.

* * *

This would be his first solo trek through the desert and he was not looking forward to it.

* * *

Within the first three days İskender reached a small town, refilled his water supply and purchased a good, trusty desert horse. From there he set out across the sands, still headed west, partially retracing the steps he and his family had taken with the caravan to come to the pilgrim camp.

He reached the borders of Israel on schedule and carefully skirted the more populated areas such as Jerusalem and Jericho. Occasionally he passed a few Romans but because he did not look Jewish he was spared many of the questions that otherwise might have been thrown his way. After all, a stranger leading a clearly foreign-bred animal and wearing desert garb was not the norm in these parts.

Despite his irregular appearance, he made it through Israel unscathed, catching a ship mere hours before it was to leave harbor again. The ship was not going directly to Patmos unfortunately, but the sailing weather was superb and the winds were in their favor. Even the horse, which İskender had decided to keep, didn't get seasick, and they made good time.

The crew of the ship was curious as to why this strange man from the desert wanted to go to a barren, rocky island full of criminals out in the middle of the sea. İskender patiently answered their questions, but did not volunteer too much information. He told them that he was going to visit an old friend – more of a political prisoner than a truly dangerous man – who had been sent to the island. After telling the curiosity seekers a few things about himself they ignored him for the rest of the time he was on board ship.

A couple of eventless weeks passed, then on the first day of the third week of the voyage İskender caught his first glimpse of the island of the exiles.

It was truly a forsaken-looking little place. Rocks were everywhere about the island and there were evidences of mining sites at several locations on the small patch of land.

İskender doubted that John would be able-bodied enough to work in the mines. His health and his years would preclude him from such labor.

The ship docked and İskender unloaded his few belongings and his horse. After leading the animal around the beach for a while to get him used to dry land again, İskender swung himself up onto the animal and set off towards what looked like the prison.

An hour later, when he had traversed the rocky terrain that separated him from the largest building on the island, İskender slipped off his horse, entrusting him to one of the men stationed at the door of the prison.

"I've come to see one of the prisoners." He told the man as he handed over the reins.

"You'll have to talk to the keeper about that." The man replied before letting the Ephesian in.

İskender nodded and got directions from the man before stepping into the prison.

Getting in to see the keeper of the prison was not difficult. Apparently he rarely saw anyone other than the guards and the prisoners and he was eager to talk with anyone not from the island. İskender carefully talked his way out of spending the entire evening with the keeper, explaining that his ship was waiting and that he needed to leave with it in order to make an important rendezvous back on the mainland.

The keeper accepted his guest's reasons for needing to leave his company and the Ephesian breathed a silent sigh of relief. When the keeper finally asked him which prisoner he was there to see İskender told him. The keeper sent for a prison guard to take him to the designated holding area for the man named "John."

As he walked the length of the prison, looking here and there, the reality of where he was and what he was doing struck him. He was on an island in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from his family who were waiting to board a ship that would take them to the stars. The ridiculousness of it all was amazing. Reality, İskender had noticed, often tended to be that way. He then wondered if John would believe him when he told him everything that was going on.

İskender did not have time to think more about the many possible reactions that his old friend might have to his tale. The guard grunted at him as the lock on John's living space clicked open.

The Ephesian thanked the man and entered the area.

Looking around the room, İskender caught the first glimpse of John that he had had in thirty years.

"You still look old." İskender said.

"Only on the outside." The apostle's eyes shone with recognition and joy. "You've come at last."

"What other choice did I have? Timothy hunted me down – in the middle of the desert."

John let out a faint chuckle. "That man knows how to find people; that is most assuredly true."

"Though I still don't understand how he actually found me…" İskender said, a look of puzzlement on his face.

"Why's that, my friend?" John asked.

"That," İskender took a deep breath and sat down in the chair that John was motioning to, "is where this all gets interesting. You wouldn't believe what's happening right now…"

John laughed again, "Just try me, İskender. I've seen things this past year…" a faraway look appeared in the old man's eyes. The Apostle suddenly shook away whatever memory had recaptured him, "In light of the things I know now, nothing would surprise me."

"Are you sure?" İskender asked, still looking skeptical.

"Quite." Came the answer.

"You have something for me?" İskender changed the subject, still unsure of telling his tale.

"Indeed." John said, face lighting up again. "But I'll hear your story first."

İskender hesitated. "I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it all myself…" he finally began. "It all began after I returned from my visit to Ephesus…"

* * *

John's face remained unchanged throughout the entire tale – everything from to the births of Ibrahim and Seda to the flight from Jerusalem up to the ship that had flown around the camp the day that he had left.

"How can you just sit there?" İskender asked, confused.

"I told you, my friend. I have seen things this past year – things that no human eye has ever seen before and none living today will ever see." He paused, letting his words sink into his visitor's mind.

"What kinds of things do you mean?" İskender asked hesitantly.

After a moment of thoughtful silence John looked his friend in the eye and stated. "I've seen the end."

"The end. The end of what?" the Ephesian asked.

"The end of the world."

At this, İskender stared at the old man, completely speechless.

The two sat in silence for a while, until İskender regained his ability to speak coherently.

"But how is that possible? Only God knows –" the Ephesian stopped short.

"Yes, İskender. Only God knows the end of world, but He has chosen to reveal it to us at this time." At this, John carefully and reverently lifted a painstakingly bound and protected book. "And it is this that I have to give you." The Apostle laid the book in İskender's lap. "It is the revelation of Jesus Christ, imparted to me by the Holy Spirit Himself."

The Ephesian was so stunned that he did not even lift a hand to touch the cover.

"It will not bite you." John said.

"I – I – don't know what to say…" the Ephesian said, tears beginning to well up in his eyes at the realization of what he held in his lap. "This is much too precious to entrust to someone like me… I don't even know where I'll be a year from now… how will the word be spread?"

"Not to worry." John reached over and laid his hand on a second book lying on the patchwork "desk" that he sat beside. "There is more than one copy. I have had time to do little else." He smiled at İskender. "It is more fulfilling to write the words of my God than to journey thousands of miles to find a treasure and return a wealthy man."

İskender stared down at the cherished unread words that he now held. As he stared he whispered, "This is the highest of all honors… These words will be a witness to untold thousands in the generations to come."

"Indeed." John nodded. "And, in light of the things I've been told to write… and those that God forbad me to reveal… your own story makes perfect sense to me – more sense than it may make to you at this point."

For the first time since he had entered the room, İskender's countenance lifted a bit. "You understand what's happening?"

"I cannot claim to know the mind of God… but I do know that, no matter how far humanity flees from this world, no matter how many stars he tries to inhabit, he will never escape God and His Word of Truth. Man will not remain scattered forever, my friend. You may leave here, but someday your descendants will return home. They will all assemble when God calls." Another faraway look settled on the old Apostle as he continued, "I remember being with Jesus… Those three years with Him… they were more wonderful than I can describe… and now that He has shown me the things that are to come, I only long for His return even more than I did before."

İskender laid a brotherly hand on the Apostle's shoulder. "May I read this now?" he asked the old man, indicating the treasured book.

"Yes! Yes, please do." John said, returning to the present.

* * *

İskender spent the rest of the day with John, reading and asking the Apostle when he did not understand something. It was a day that the Ephesian would not ever forget, for as long as he lived.

When the time came for İskender to depart his heart nearly tore in two. This was the last time that he would ever see or speak with John before their deaths. It was a hard parting, one that İskender wished did not have to happen. He desired with all his heart to take the old man with him back to the desert and out to the stars with the rest of the camp… but he knew that he couldn't.

With much sadness and even more hope İskender said his last good-bye to his dear friend, boarded his ship and watched the tiny island disappear as they sailed away. The book that John had entrusted to him was sealed carefully inside a waterproof skin and slung around his neck. The volume, even within its casing, seemed to hug İskender's chest, the words of his Saviour resting just over his full, beating heart.

* * *

**Chapters 26 & 27 were inspired by:**  
- "Here Am I, Lord," by Ron and Shelly Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD "I Saw the Lord."  
- "Meet Me There" by Henrietta Blair & Ron Hamilton, music by Richard Nichols, found on the Majesty Music CD, "I Saw Jesus in You."  
- "One by One," by Ron and Shelly Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD "Worthy of Praise."  
- "The Bible Stands," by Haldor Lillenas and Ron Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD "Worthy of Praise."  
- "Until Then," by Stuart Hamblen, arranged by Tim Fisher and Mac Lynch, found on the Sacred Music Services CD "Let Us Praise His Name."


	33. Chapter 28: We Ask for Greater Works

**Chapter 28: We Ask for Greater Works**

Finally, almost six months and a few small adventures after he had departed from the camp, he saw the towering spiral of rock that marked the valley where his family was waiting. İskender hoped and prayed that the departure date had not been moved up.

The Ephesian's fear of being left behind was allayed, only to be replaced with another.

Because his return was executed during the late afternoon hours the patrols were not posted yet, only a couple of men were usually assigned to watch the perimeter during the day, and today they weren't anywhere to be seen. That was when the alarm in his head started going off.

İskender thundered into the camp, swinging down off of his horse as quickly as he could when he reached his family's campsite. It was empty. The tents were still set up and everything was still there, but his family was gone.

He had just finished rifling through his daughter and granddaughter's tent, trying to find a hint as to where they had all disappeared to when suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

"Father!" Hadassah's voice was uncharacteristically anxious. "Father! You're here!" The young woman ran to him and hugged him fiercely. "They've taken Ibrahim!"

"What? Where? Why?!" İskender fired questions at his daughter.

"They came an hour ago and dragged him to the center of camp. They're going to flog him!" tears ran down Hadassah's face. "He _saved_ that baby and now they want to beat him for it!" she sobbed.

"What?! We have to get down there, but tell me everything." He pulled his daughter towards his horse and they both mounted, he in front and she in back, as Hadassah continued to cry for her brother.

"It's Seda's son… the one she was pregnant with when you left. She delivered only a month ago. He's a beautiful little child, and Reuel, Seda's husband was very happy, but Seda was outraged." Hadassah said haltingly. "She needs a daughter… yet she bore a son – a son with dark hair no less. For this sin she condemned her child to death. And that coward husband of hers would have let her do it!" she teared up again, "But Ibrahim found out about it and stopped her just before she…" she didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was clear. "Father, we have to help him!"

"We're going to, Hadassah." İskender assured.

The horse ran through the camp, flinging sand up behind him as he went. They quickly made it to the edge of the mob that had gathered around the spectacle at the center of the camp. İskender left the horse tied to something that resembled a dwarfed bush and he and his daughter raced through the human sea towards the front of the gathering. They got as near to Ibrahim as they could.

While they were still jostling through the crowd they heard the Guardian's voice echoing around the area, this time without the aid of her strange amulet.

"This man has committed treason and insubordination." She said. "He has sought to deny me my sovereign right as your leader to exercise my good judgment in ensuring that you will have a suitable future leader. He has taken away my choice to protect you and ensure your future! For this he must be punished."

The crowd roared their approval, but as İskender began to look around, he noticed that the numbers of the group had strangely dwindled.

* * *

Ibrahim was tied to a wooden stake, hammered into the desert floor until it would not budge. His wrists were bound too-tightly together with a strip of leather that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. His joints were beginning to ache from the strain that was being put on his shoulders and arms. They had tied him so that could neither stand nor kneel. The half-hanging pose was painful, but not so painful as what he knew would soon follow. Even the beating that he had received at the hands of the ones assigned to drag him here would feel like mercy in comparison to what was to come.

When his sister had finished her speech and was being applauded by the crowd she leaned down to him and whispered into his ear.

"Why do you care so much about one nameless child, fool?"

Clearly she had not recognized him for who he was – a small mercy in this entire ordeal.

"Because he is part of the human race." He said calmly, "And he deserves a chance to live."

Seda made a scoffing sound as she stepped back and took an ugly whip from her silent husband who stood by, looking horrified at what was happening, but unwilling to do anything to stop it.

A long, terrible moment later Ibrahim heard the crack of leather and felt the burning pain run down his back.

* * *

"NO!" the cry welled up in Hadassah's throat as she watched that horrible first lash, but just as she was about to let the word out she clasped both hands over her mouth and stifled her cry. She could do no good this way. Instead of letting hysterics get the best of her, she turned her heart to the only One who could intervene on their behalf now.

"Oh Lord, protect my brother… he had saved the life of a helpless child and now he is suffering for it. Please, spare him." She prayed quietly as she buried her face in her father's robe.

She listened to every crack of the whip and every cheer from the crowd. She listened for any indication that the torture would stop as she counted as first five, then twelve, then twenty-five, thirty, thirty-nine lashes were laid on her brother.

"Hadassah!" the unfamiliar voice met İskender's ears before his daughter heard it. It was a young Jewish man, who also looked to be of the line of Levi, though this one lacked the scared-rabbit look of many of the others the Ephesian had seen in the camp.

"Who are you?" İskender demanded as the young man walked up to his daughter.

"My name is Drahim" He replied without hesitation, "and if we are to help Ibrahim we need to get down there now before the crowd has their turn with him."

İskender gave the young man one more suspicious look before nodding and quickly following him through the crowd, careful to stay between this "Drahim" and his daughter who came quickly behind the two men.

* * *

The mind-numbing pain spread through Ibrahim as he hung from the stake. Lash after lash tore into him, each one worse than the last. He cried out to God in his heart, petitioning strength for however long this trial would last.

He did not know if he had passed out or if maybe he had mentally withdrawn for a time because when he opened his eyes, instead of the gloating countenance of his sister Seda, he saw the welcome faces of his dear daughter Atara, his mother, Hadassah, Drahim the Levite, and…

"Father!" Ibrahim tried to exclaim through bruised lips. All that escaped was a loud whisper, but the happiness he felt at finally seeing İskender back with them was not lost.

"So your impetuousness _did_ get you into trouble." The Ephesian said.

Ibrahim smiled, "You might say that."

İskender nodded approvingly, "This time though, you made good use of it. Hadassah told me what you did. Because of you one less life has been lost to the darkness we now find ourselves in."

Lying on the floor of one of the tents on his stomach was not particularly comfortable, but there were no other options. Ibrahim couldn't exactly lie down on his now-bandaged, but still shredded back.

"Thank you." Ibrahim addressed them all before changing the subject, "Father, I see you've met Drahim."

"In a way." İskender replied, casting another suspicious look at the Hebrew. "Who are you exactly?" he addressed the young man.

Drahim smiled, "I am a follower of Yeshua – the one you call Jesus. I accepted him as the true Mashiach soon after you left on your journey."

İskender was silent, staring at the young man, wondering why Drahim even knew that he had been gone at all. "Go on." He said, still suspicious.

"My people have long awaited the coming of Mashiach, but most of them rejected Yeshua when He walked here upon this world because He came as atoning Lamb instead of as King." Drahim explained, "When I finally met your family as a result of the training that many of us were selected for, I was searching for an answer to the prophecies written in the Torah – our Scriptures. I knew that there were many rumors associated with the Nazarene Yeshua, but in my mind I could not understand how He could be the One foretold to us all of these centuries… Your daughter Hadassah graciously brought me back here one day after the training was done for the day and she, your wife, granddaughter and son proceeded to properly introduce me to Yeshua HaMashiach."

İskender raised an "is this all true" eyebrow towards Simay. When she nodded back at him, he looked back at Drahim and extended his hand. The Levite smiled broadly and clasped the offered forearm.

The unmistakable cry of a baby interrupted the moment and İskender received his second – or was it the third – shock of the day when Simay carefully retrieved a tiny squalling boy from a makeshift bed and held him up for İskender to see.

"And this is…?" he asked, pointing at the child questioningly.

Simay quieted the child then said, "He's your grandson, Seda's son…"

İskender chuckled to himself. He should have known. "The one Ibrahim saved, of course. What is his name?"

Atara answered her grandfather, "We have all named him Yoav – Joab* – to honor his heritage."

İskender reached out to his wife, "May I?"

"Of course." She replied, handing Yoav over to his grandfather. "You look a lot like your grandmother, little one," he said to the baby. "I hope you grow up to be like her."

* * *

The next many hours were spent telling İskender about anything and everything that had happened while he had been away, the most serious event being the disappearing pilgrims.

"So they would just be suddenly gone?" İskender asked.

"Well, sort of." Atara replied. "They would always disappear either at night or during a trip out to the ship docks. When the first couple of people disappeared everyone thought that maybe they had just gotten lost and that they would turn up again, but they never did."

"And what sort of people are disappearing" the Ephesian asked.

"Mostly the older people – over seventy or eighty – and the ones who have physical difficulties: the blind, deaf, or lame." His granddaughter supplied.

"She's purifying the bloodline..." he said softly.

"She's doing what?" Drahim queried.

"The Guardian – Seda – is weeding out everyone she thinks won't contribute to the betterment of the group. The weak are destroyed so that only the strong will live to create whatever race she and her 'guide' Diana have conjured up…" said İskender.

"What is the world coming to when a person is denied life because of the way God made them…?" said Hadassah.

"An end..." İskender said ominously. "And that's even more at the forefront of my mind now after talking with John…"

"What did he say?" Simay asked.

"He said… well… perhaps it would be better to tell you what he _saw_."

"Saw?" Atara asked.

"Saw." İskender confirmed before fetching a curious book from among the items he had returned with from his journey.

Everyone else watched as İskender carefully handled the book as though it were sacred. When he opened it and began to read aloud, they understood why.

"The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to shew unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it by the angel unto his servant John: Who bare record of the word of God, and of the testimony of Jesus Christ, and of all things that he saw. Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein: for the time is at hand.*" İskender stopped reading. The charged silence in the tent was all-encompassing. That is, until Atara broke it in her usual fashion.

"So. What did he see?!"

This evoked a laugh from everyone, including Ibrahim who winced as he laughed.

When the laughter had died away İskender said, "John saw the end of this world and the beginning of the next. He saw the return of Jesus and the end of time. He saw the archangel Michael chain a great beast – Lucifer himself – and he saw that fallen angel cast into a lake of fire…" the Ephesian paused to let his words register in the listeners' ears before continuing. "He saw it all… and in the end, Jesus is the triumphant One. Lucifer won't admit it, but he's already lost the war, and now we have the written promise of God that it is so." He closed the cover of the book and ran an admiring hand over it.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I want to hear it." Drahim said. "Every word of it."

A chorus of agreement rose from the family.

"Especially since we leave in two days' time." Hadassah added.

"Very well," İskender said. "You should all sit down. This will take some time to finish."

Everyone sat down , except Ibrahim who was already lying down, and listened as İskender read,

"John to the seven churches which are in Asia: Grace be unto you, and peace, from him which is, and which was, and which is to come; and from the seven Spirits which are before his throne; And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, And hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

"Behold, he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him. Even so, Amen.

"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.

"I, John, who also am your brother, and companion in tribulation, and in the kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ, was in the isle that is called Patmos, for the word of God, and for the testimony of Jesus Christ. I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day, and heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet, Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea.*"

* * *

"I think my brain exploded…" Atara said late that night when İskender finally finished reading the book that John had gifted to him.

Hadassah laughed, "I could not have said it any better." She sobered a bit then continued, "I just wish I could have seen what John saw…"

"I think we're all wishing that right about now." Ibrahim's voice floated up from the floor of the tent he had been forced to invade.

"You look terrible." Hadassah stated as she studied her brother.

"Thanks a lot." He said.

"Sorry." Hadassah replied. "You look like you were thrown under a camel stampede."

"Well, you can thank our dear sister for that." He replied, "Though if I had the opportunity to go back and choose whether or not to save Yoav again, I would have done the exact same thing."

"Well, I'm tired." Atara announced, breaking up the brother-sister moment. "I'm going to go sleep now. Wake me up in the morning."

* * *

The next two days went by in a blur. Hadassah, Atara and Drahim were called to attend a few last minute training sessions on the flying ships while Simay and İskender were left to care for Yoav and Ibrahim and get the last few things packed for the journey.

The one thing that was on all of their minds was the words that İskender had read to them – the words of God, penned by John. They were heavy words, but wonderful in a way that could not be described. John had described terrible things as well as things more beautiful and awful* than could ever be truly explained.

The day of the launch was bright – as every day was in the desert. The chosen crews of the three ships were at their posts, though none of them fully understood the machinery they were supposed to be keeping in the air.

The mighty engines rumbled, shaking the ground for miles in every direction. Pre-flight check-lists were checked and rechecked. Everyone and everything was secured inside the ship. Horses and cattle neighed and lowed their distress at the foreign sensations that were being thrown upon them, and passengers also expressed their fear and anxiety at the strange new experience.

İskender and Simay, who was holding Yoav, sat in a small room in a section of the ship called "Passenger Quarters."

At the moment many of the rooms were empty. The designers of these ships had built in extra space to provide for the eventual expansion of the passenger population. For now the area was reasonably quiet aside from the roaring of the ships engines, but in the years to come, they knew it would be a lot louder and more cramped.

İskender looked over at his wife and she looked back at him. A wordless message passed between the two: "I love you, and I will never stop, no matter what happens."

* * *

Hadassah, Drahim, and Atara were all congregated around one section of what everyone had started calling the "bridge." The three had all been assigned to work in the same area, for which they were supremely grateful.

The three young people also shared a look with one another, but this look was one of camaraderie, one that said, "You're part of my family, and I'll always have your back."

* * *

Ibrahim lay almost-comfortably in a bed in the medical wing of the ship. His back was still raw and aching and there was still some blood to be seen when one of his assigned attendants came to change his bandages, but he was healing well from his ordeal. He would always bear the scars from his beating, but it was a small price to pay for the life of his nephew. If by shedding his own blood he could ransom a life, he would gladly do it again.

He looked around at the stark white walls and floor and ceiling and sheets. He wished he could see out somehow. If only they had put a window in this part of the ship… But there wasn't one, so he had to be content with letting his senses tell him what was going on.

The rumbling of the ship was holding steady for now, but he knew that would not be the case for long.

As he waited for the ship to take flight he prayed.

"Lord, we have no idea where we're going, how we're going to get there, or when we'll arrive… But You know all of it. Thou art the Alpha and the Omega* of this world – this thing we call reality. Thou hast done great things in the past, and Lord, we ask for greater works. We call upon Thy name. The children of Israel were delivered from the hands of Pharaoh by Thy hand.

"'Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead in the mighty waters. Who is like unto thee, O LORD, among the gods? Who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders? Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth swallowed them. Thou in thy mercy hast led forth the people which thou hast redeemed: thou hast guided them in thy strength unto thy holy habitation. The people shall hear, and be afraid: sorrow shall take hold on the inhabitants of Palestina. Then the dukes of Edom shall be amazed; the mighty men of Moab, trembling shall take hold upon them; all the inhabitants of Canaan shall melt away. Fear and dread shall fall upon them; by the greatness of thine arm they shall be as still as a stone; till thy people pass over, O LORD, till the people pass over, which thou hast purchased. Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the place, O LORD, which thou hast made for thee to dwell in, in the Sanctuary, O LORD, which thy hands have established. The LORD shall reign for ever and ever. For the horse of Pharaoh went in with his chariots and with his horsemen into the sea, and the LORD brought again the waters of the sea upon them; but the children of Israel went on dry land in the midst of the sea.*'

"May we never stop seeking Thee, my Lord. May we never forget Who has protected and guided us. May we ever trust in Thee, and may we never stop trying to reach Seda, our sister with the message of hope that you bring. If I fail, may my children and my children's children continue pursuing her and her descendants. And may it be the same with Hadassah and the children I know she will raise.

"Show Thyself strong through us and the ones who will turn to Thee in the generations to come… In the name of Thy dear Son, Jesus, I pray this."

And with those words, Ibrahim felt the ship begin to move.

* * *

As the earth dropped away from the three ships and they began hurtling upwards through the atmosphere of the planet, curious, disbelieving eyes peeked out viewports – as gravity allowed. Many were terrified, but a few harbored an ever-broadening sense of adventure as they were flung out among the stars.

* * *

**Chapter 28 was inspired by:**

"Greater Works" by John R. Van Gelderen and Daniel J. Van Gelderen, found on the Baptist College of Ministry CD, "Only Thou Art Holy."

**Notes:**

* Joab – name means "Yahweh is father"

* Revelation 1:1-3, KJV

* Revelation 1:4-11, KJV

* awful – literally meaning "full of awe," used in a good context here

* Alpha and Omega – a reference back to Revelation 1:8 & 11 which was read by İskender earlier in the chapter

* Exodus 15:11-19, KJV


	34. Intermission 5

**Intermission**

Talonka changed her pace and tone, entering into a summary of sorts.

"Time, as is its way," she said, "passed more quickly than anyone anticipated. The portions of history that I have thus far related are far from complete. Much more could be said about the lives of İskender, Simay, Atara, Ibrahim, Yoav, and Seda. And perhaps one day you will hear those stories, but as I tell this history to you, I fear that time is of the essence and there is one more portion of our history that you must know in order to understand, my son.

"As for the generations of the family of Simay, Malcus and İskender, they continued on.

"Hadassah and Drahim were eventually married and raised three children: Gideoni, Miriam, and Caleb. The youngest child, Caleb married a woman named Ari and became the father to a son, Avraham.

"Ibrahim lived a long life and never remarried. His daughter Atara was joined in marriage to a Jew named Moshe and they became the parents of a son whom they named Penuel. He, in turn married Elisheba and fathered a daughter, Havilah. She married a man named Orin and bore to him two sons, Kingdon and Elishama.

"The line of Seda Guardiana – a title given to her and her line sometime during the long journey – also continued on in its sordid fashion, eating away at itself, yet somehow surviving. After the birth of Yoav, Seda bore a second son, Noach whom she abandoned to strangers. She finally bore a daughter, her heir, and named her Achinoam. This daughter carried on the legacy of Diana and when she came of age she took up the mantle of the Guardiana. Achinoam married an odd man named Baldemar Boyar and became the mother of a son, Adrian Boyar, and a daughter, Ekaterina.

"Ekaterina became the next Guardiana and on her sixteenth birthday she was wed to a dark-skinned adventurer named Zuberi. Soon they announced the impending arrival of their first (and only) child, Desta Guardiana. This new Guardiana married a Tarsian, Calisto, a descendant of a freed slave. Desta gave birth to a daughter whom she named Delmy, the next Guardiana.

"Of these descendants, four in particular distinguished themselves, not because of what they did, but because of who their descendants were.

"Adrian Boyar, son of a man from the far North of the world the pilgrims had left, became the father of the races we have come to know as the Bolar and the Cometines.

"Ekaterina's granddaughter Delmy Guardiana is the one from whom the woman Kyren Guardiana descended. Her life was a pivotal moment in the history of Gamilon and many other worlds.

"Elishama, great-grandson of Atara was the ancestor of a man named Asher who married Kyren Guardiana and set in motion the series of events that Gamilon now finds herself in.

"Avraham, grandson of Hadassah, became the father of a great race – named for their long ago patriarch, İskender – the Iscandari.

"The Mnasonim* spread far and wide across the known universe, and the Sedan, Ibrahemic, and Hadassian lines became well-established in the 1,890 years that transpired between the birth of Delmy Guardiana and the advent of the saga of Kyren Guardiana, whom I, Talonka descended from.

"Also in this interim, many of the people groups that were a part of the original derekh* were consolidated into one while others split apart. Despite the guarantee of the Guardiana, racial prejudices resurfaced. They became so severe that they often led to bloodshed.

"The original three ships that set out turned into a countless sea as more and more people were born and their knowledge of technology and the universe around them increased.

"Many people found homes on worlds they never dreamed of. The Bolar homeworld and the original Cometine pioneer worlds were settled. Telezart, Bemera and Balan became established centers of technological, geological and genetic research.

"Throughout all of this, the races began to further diverge, and to mark their divergence, they began to use what they knew about genetics to place a mark upon every future descendant of each race: widely diverse skin tones. Of all of the races, only those of the Hadassian line refused to be marked in this way, which resulted in the Iscandari retaining a diluted version of the skin tones of their ancestors.

"As it is with all things, even the genetic manipulations concocted by our ancestors have begun to break down. There have been increasing reports of children born to marked parents who lacked their parents' mark and were born with a version of the original skin tones of the Mnasonim. There have been other cases, as with you and I, my son, where children have been born with strange marks on them – portions of skin left unmarked by the proper genetic differentiator. Such things are especially prone to happen in genetically engineered offspring and their children. Such children are not cursed, as some have alleged. They are simply devoid of the mark that has been inflicted upon their people group for centuries. They are free of the stigma attached to their races – liberated from our imagined ethnic barriers.

"Do not be troubled by this mark you bear, my son. It is no shame to you – no matter what any may say. It is an acknowledgement of the oneness of the divergent races – a mark of unity, not chaos. With this mark you have been given a great key. Conceal it from those who would use it against you, and proudly display it to those who would be your allies.

"Never forget the things you have heard here thus far. They will help you to understand things that no one else will be able to. This history is another key that you have been given – it is to be treated with equal care as the first. Reveal it to no one whom you do not trust with your life.

"As for you, Masterson, this key is now yours as well. Use it well and guard it with your life, for it could cost you your life to reveal it to the wrong people. To reveal the role of the Guardiana in Gamilon history could ignite a religious war worse than any this galaxy has ever seen.

"I trust you both to know who to trust and who to keep at arm's length. Choose wisely and never stop connecting your present with your past. The relationships will astound you.

"And now, I must reveal to you the story of Kyren Guardiana, and the more recent past."

Before his mother could launch into her next portion of history, Desslok raised a hand to halt the hologram. The image of his mother acknowledged his request and stopped talking.

Masterson quietly watched as the prince looked down at his gloved left hand. He clenched his fist once, then twice, flipping it over slowly a few times, studying it. Then he eased off the glove in one fluid motion and flicked it towards Masterson who deftly caught it.

Masterson could just make out the muttered words that escaped his friend's lips, "A key… to what…?" Then Desslok turned to Masterson, a strange thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I need to clear my head." The prince said.

Masterson nodded. Usually when the prince said he needed to clear his head he meant he needed to go hit something.

In a few minutes the two were stepping outside the palace and into an area ringed by trees. It was not very well-kept. Weeds, wildflowers and grass were growing up between the cracks in the cobblestone circle. A stone bench, long ago covered by vines, seemed to grow up from the ground to the far right of the area.

"Shall I send out the drones, sir?" Masterson asked.

"No, Talan." Without turning around the prince said, "Today, it will be you and I."

Masterson cringed. This was not a good sign. Whenever Desslok said that, it meant that he wanted something more challenging than robotic foes – something with a mind and will – something he could match wits with. Masterson seldom won these vicious bouts.

"Yes, sir." Talan replied before peeling off his shirt and tossing it onto the aforementioned bench.

The two young men stretched before their sparring match, but just before they went to the center of the circle, the prince turned his back to Masterson and slowly removed his own shirt. Before today he had always fought with it on. When Masterson saw the prince's back, he understood why.

"He may be my brother, Masterson." Desslok said, tossing his own shirt next to his friend's. "But he would happily kill me if given the chance."

Snaking down the prince's muscled back was an ugly white scar, travelling from the top of one shoulder down to just above the opposite hip.

"He would've killed me then had the instructor not had conscience enough to stop him." Desslok said into the silence. "After that, I knew I had to be ready for anything – even from my own flesh and blood."

With that Desslok turned and walked to the center of the stone ring. Masterson went as well, not saying a word.

The fighting commenced upon a silent agreement between the two teenagers and they both crouched and began to circle one another, studying every move and twitch that the other one made, trying to anticipate who would make the first move.

Masterson feigned a jab at his opponent's unprotected stomach, then threw a real punch at the prince's shoulder with his off hand.

Desslok easily dodged him, sending in a punch of his own, making contact with Masterson's right side.

Talan recovered almost instantly and dropped to the ground, flinging out a leg to try to catch his opponent off guard.

The prince almost missed the flying obstacle, but one foot caught on it and he tumbled away, turning the fall into a roll and coming back up on his feet, then immediately flying back into the fray, executing a perfect flying roundhouse kick aimed at Talan's head.

Masterson spun away from the boot speeding towards his face, not wanting the promise of a broken nose that it brought with it, and catching the follow through leg, sweeping his own leg behind the prince's planted foot, making his opponent topple over.

The prince picked himself up within half a second and came at Masterson with a vengeance, his eyes filled with the inner fire that he always had during a fight.

The bout went on and on until finally the admiral's son was once again overpowered by Desslok.

It was always interesting to Masterson how two twins could be so vastly different. Even the way each one chose to fight revealed their fundamental differences. Deun preferred a more krav maga* style, up close and ruthless. His twin however, preferred a more intellectual fight – one requiring more thought and finesse and less mindless beating. Both approaches had their strengths as well as their weaknesses, and when the brothers fought one another their divergent styles threw both of them off balance. Deun spent most of his time trying to get close to his brother; Desslok spent of his time untangling himself from his brother's too-close methods.

The few spars that Masterson had watched the brothers engage in always ended bloodily, with both young men to blame. The two were merciless with each other, taking every opportunity to add more pain to the other's experience.

Perhaps the breach between the brothers was one thing that had made Desslok the way he was. Masterson did not know when Deun had changed into such a ruthless individual, but as recent revelations had shown, he was not even above selling out his own family if it bought him an advantage.

Desslok and Masterson retrieved their discarded shirts. Masterson slung his over his shoulder, not bothering to put it back on and have it end up soaked in sweat. The prince however, did slip his back on, hiding the vicious slash from view.

No one gave either of them a second look as they returned to their separate living spaces and made themselves presentable once again before reconvening in the prince's quarters.

"Now that you have sufficiently beaten me, sir, I have a suggestion." Masterson said.

"What, Talan?" the prince asked, genuinely curious.

"My father should know." Masterson met his friends' gaze unwaveringly as the silence between them began to grow and the admiral's son began to think that he had made a mistake in offering his opinion.  
After another long moment the prince looked thoughtfully towards the hologram, which had shut itself off upon their original departure from the room.

Then he looked back at Masterson and calmly said, "No." then he added, "Not now."

"Do you distrust him?" Masterson asked.

"I trust your father with my life, but as a soldier in my own father's service, I have a duty to do what I can to protect him as well. Knowing everything that my – that my mother has said thus far would put him in jeopardy. I cannot do that to him – to you. You're too valuable of a friend… and so is your father."

Masterson nodded in understanding then said, "We should finish it then. As soon as we can."

"Agreed." Desslok said. "There is something coming to Rapha'owr…"

"Something dark and terrible…" Masterson agreed, "Something we may only be able to face if we can wield the past as our sword."

* * *

**Intermission Notes:**

* Mnasonim – seekers – the group that left earth

* derekh – journey

* krav maga – means "contact combat" in Hebrew, used in the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF)


	35. Chapter 29: Engineered for Us

**Chapter 29: Engineered for Us**

Kyren Guardiana often had her own way of doing things. When something frustrated her she threw determination at it until the problem was resolved. She never truly realized that when the solution to a good problem is to do evil, that the problem is not worth committing sin to resolve.

* * *

The universe is vast; many travelers have journeyed through the stars who have never found a home to call their own. Such were Asher and his wife Kyren.

Years of wandering the galaxies had split up the followers of Diana and her mouthpiece, the Guardiana. There were rumors that many of the group had retreated to a planet just beyond the edge of known space. They had named their new refuge "Guardiana." Pockets of followers had settled on the Bolar colonies, in Gamilon space, aboard the great starships of the Gatlanteans – some were rumored to have even boarded the infamous Cometine fortresses themselves. Other Guardiana followers had disappeared to unexplored space to find yet another world that they could inhabit.

No one really knew how many planets had been colonized. Somewhere through history the records of such settlements had been lost – or perhaps they had not even been recorded at all in some cases.

It was for this reason – lack of records – that Kyren and Asher found themselves on the world of Telezart. It was a pleasant world with pleasant people. The culture was unique – a mixture of many different social systems. The technology was superb – especially their forays into genetics. Telezart was a bright light, a beautiful beacon of civilization in the midst of an otherwise uninhabited sector of space. It also happened to possess a wealth of information ranging farther back into history than many of the other inhabited worlds. The treasure trove of knowledge drew many to the world, including many who were seeking particular information that might have been unobtainable elsewhere.

* * *

"I believe I've found what we're looking for." Kyren said triumphantly, holding up a small handheld device that the locals used for searching the planet-wide database. The record that was displayed on the screen showed a picture of a very _very_ old ship resting on Telzarti soil. The picture was descent, but obviously not up to the standards of the modern day.

"How old is that information?" Asher replied.

"It says that it's…" she paused, scrolling through the article once again to make sure she had not misread the dates, "eighteen hundred years old."

"Then this is…" his sentence trailed off.

"Yes! It is from the original colonization of Telezart, almost two millennia ago!" Kyren almost squeaked with excitement.

"If it's genuine, it's our first breakthrough here – or anywhere in a long time." Her husband replied. "The information is always buried in a database, encrypted beyond readability, or mysteriously lost. How hard is it to write down what happened? Is it too much to ask people to remember their own history?"

"Apparently it is." Kyren replied as she began to read carefully through the information that she had found – the first piece of a gigantic puzzle.

"How could the past be forgotten so quickly…? Even my own people have forgotten some of their roots."

"Your people have been forgetting their past since before they became a nation, Asher." Kyren quipped.

This comment earned silence from her husband.

"This particular information was supposedly written by several of the first settlers of Telezart." Kyren scrolled further down, "It says here that the group that settled here was…" she looked at the screen strangely, "Hadassian? What's a Hadassian?"

"A race?" Asher offered carefully.

"Maybe. Could be a religious group or perhaps some sort of social class distinction too." She said. "I'm going to try to cross-reference it."

Kyren searched through the planetary data net until she couldn't stand to look at the screen anymore.

"There's nothing else here – absolutely _nothing_." She said angrily.

"At least you found _something_." Her husband offered, trying to calm her down.

"Yes, I suppose this small find is significant." She said, then suddenly exploded, "But it is not enough! There must be more to this story than just a few bits of information here and there!" Kyren slumped down into a nearby chair, tears coming to her eyes now.

"The Torah contains much history."

"I have scoured that old relic over and over!" she shot back. "It tells me nothing about how any of us got where we are today – how we learned to navigate the stars, to travel light-years in a moment, to live in a void absent from solid ground! No one knows how that came to pass!" she sobbed. "I _want to know!_"

The only sound in the room for a moment was Kyren's crying, followed by another sorrowful outburst.

"Oh Diana, why have you left the Guardiana without knowledge of the past? Without an heir? Why have you abandoned me in my time of need?"

"That spirit cannot help you." Asher said bitterly. "Why do you cling to belief in it even after all of these generations of 'Guardiana' have passed without so much as a single contact with it? The spirit is gone, Kyren. It's time you accepted that. The shêd has deserted you."

"She is more than just a spirit!" Kyren shouted. "She is my protector, the deity of my family line! She is our goddess!"

Asher shook his head. "You are a foolish woman. I should have listened to my father and married a nice Jewish girl."

"Well, you didn't." she spat. "Maybe if you would accept that you might have a son or daughter to present to your parents."

* * *

The rest of the day flew by in a tense silence. Religion and children had always been the two forbidden subjects between the two.

Religion because Asher was a somewhat-devout Jew and Kyren was fanatical about her goddess Diana and the role that she had been chosen for in the worship of that goddess.

Children because they had thus far been unable to bear any and the frustration caused by their childless state drove a wedge between the two that was only widened by time – time that gave Asher opportunity to learn exactly what kind of woman Kyren really was. She was obsessed with two things: finding out how the races had populated the stars… and obtaining a child – specifically a red-haired daughter. She was frighteningly insistent about it.

Kyren's obsession had resulted in widening the schism between the couple, but after a very animated conversation, Asher had agreed to come with his wife to the best genetic research facility in known space – the Epigenetic Research and Development Center – found in the city of Recijifria on the Northern hemisphere of the planet. The purpose for the trip was twofold: first they would go through the planet's historical database, then they would go to the ERDC to see if there was something they could do to make Kyren's obsession with a daughter a reality.

Their information hunt now over, it was time to go to the research center. Asher dreaded the trip. His parents would explode if they knew that he and Kyren had come here to remedy their childless condition. Thankfully, his parents had not asked him where he and his wife were going this time. They would have undoubtedly disapproved.

* * *

The trip to the ERDC took the better part of an hour via public transport – a trip that would have taken them less than twenty minutes had they taken their personal shuttle, but Kyren had insisted on "interacting with the locals" during their trip. She said that she had had enough of those dusty libraries and hours of fruitless research.

They arrived at the research center ten minutes before their scheduled appointment. They walked in, uncertain of where they should go.

Asher felt supremely awkward entering a place like this. The thought of an artificially conceived child was entirely against his religious persuasions. Even the possibility that such a thing could be done was offensive to his pious conscience. But if he let his beliefs dictate to him what to do in this situation there would never be peace in his home again. Better to mollify Kyren now than to live with a bitter wife for the rest of his days.

Kyren, on the other hand was excited as she walked into the gorgeous building. The structure was made entirely out of formed multi-layered glass. Even the decorative fountains were clear as polished crystal. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty and elegance. If there was one place in the known universe that could fulfill her need for an heir to her honored position as Guardiana, it was the ERDC.

"Hello!" a friendly-looking young man in white hailed the couple. "You must be Asher and Kyren." He said when he got a bit closer to them. "I am Holden Krom, but you may call me Holden." He held out a welcoming hand to Asher who hesitantly clasped the offered forearm in greeting. The young man turned to Kyren and bowed slightly to her in greeting.

"Welcome to the ERDC." He smiled. "Please, come this way." He motioned for the couple to follow him down a crystalline corridor.

* * *

"When I first heard of your problem and your need for a specific characteristic set for you child I jumped at the chance to take on your case." Holden said.

"Aren't you a bit young to be working here?" came the challenge.

"Asher!" Kyren chastised her husband.

"Oh, it's quote alright." Holden said, still smiling with all of his annoying charisma. "I often get that question – though not always so straightforwardly."

Kyren frowned at her husband again.

"My family has always had a hand in one form of science or another. Some found their place in kinetics, some in astro-physics, others in biology or chemistry. I found out early that my skills lay in genetics. When I had discovered my passion I pursued it whole-heartedly which led to early completion of a few degrees and a position here, at the best genetics research center in the known universe." Holden said. "Well. Now that we've discussed my qualifications, let's talk about what we here at the ERDC can do for you two. You are wanting a daughter, correct?"

Asher opened his mouth to say something smart, but Kyren spoke up too quickly.

"Yes, we are." She said.

"Alright…" the geneticist fished a piece of paper out of the small mountain of sheets he was carrying. "If I remember right…" he scanned the front of the page then flipped it over. "Ah, yes. You specifically requested a pre-determined hair color. Was there anything else you would prefer? Eye color? Height? Skin tone? Anything?"

"Hmm…" Kyren said thoughtfully, "Now that I think about it, yes."

Asher almost groaned. Choosing one thing about a child was enough, but going beyond that... it was too much like playing God. He would have spoken up, but he feared Kyren's wrath too much.

"Her eyes should be…" she thought for a moment, "blue. She must be tall – at least two heads taller than I am – and fair-skinned, much like the Telzarti people."

"Alright." Holden said, scribbling down the last of Kyren's requests before looking back up at the couple. "The only step left for this visit will be to get the appropriate genetic material from the two of you." He looked at Kyren, "I assume that your husband is to be the father of your daughter."

Kyren nodded.

"Very well then, please wait here and the resident doctor and his staff will be with you shortly."

* * *

"I should have asked him if he knew anything about the 'Hadassians'." Kyren said to herself as she and her husband left the ERDC to head back to their ship.

Asher didn't say anything.

"Why are you so quiet?" his wife prodded him in the ribs with her elbow.

Asher sighed, "I just don't understand how you can just choose things like what your child looks like without a second thought about it – like it's akin to choosing the color of your ship, or the layout of your house." He sounded frustrated.

"It's harmless, Asher." Kyren chided. "She'll fit right in with the local population."

"You intend to _stay_ here?!" he exclaimed.

Kyren shrugged in mock innocence – a look he had learned never to believe, "Maybe."

"You do, don't you. Well, what if _I_ don't want to stay here?" his gaze bored into her.

"Then you can leave." She said simply. "Once I have my daughter I will have no need of you anymore."

The blow hurt. Until now Asher had thought there might have been at least some twisted sort of love between him and his wife. That conception had just been incinerated like so much garbage.

The two were silent the rest of the way back to their ship.

* * *

A few days later they received a call from Holden Krom.

"You've what?!" Kyren's angry voice rang through the small ship.

This made Asher smile. At least something wasn't going exactly like his wife had planned.

"I want that buffoon fired!"

"There went _that_ lab assistant's job." Thought Asher.

"Alright." Kyren sighed in exaggerated annoyance. "I'll be there as soon as I can." The communication ended.

"Asher!" Kyren called out to him from the front of the ship.

"Yes?" he pretended not to know what was goin on.

"I'm going out. I'll be back a few hours."

"Alright." He called back. "Don't get lost."

He could hear his wife muttering as she boarded the small shuttle that was stored in the miniature hangar located in the back of their ship. He heard the boarding ramp open and the shuttle leave.

* * *

Just as Kyren had promised, a few hours later she returned, but now she had a triumphant smile on her face. She walked straight up on Asher and announced, "We're having a daughter."

"So that little… misunderstanding was… what?" he asked, referring to the call his wife had received earlier.

Kyren laughed. "Krom got two projects mixed up. Nothing is wrong with the embryo he engineered for us."

Asher didn't respond.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she tested.

"Umm…" he shifted around on his feet nervously, "Good?" he offered, hoping it was the right answer.

"Yes, it's very good." she said. "And in case you're worried, your parents won't suspect a thing. She'll be born just like any other child, in nine months – give or take a day or two." She smirked.

"Have you chosen her name?" he asked, and then added under his breath, "Since you seem to have chosen everything else already."

Kyren either didn't hear, or chose to ignore the last part.

"Her name will be Trelaina."


End file.
